


Shadowbound

by AdrianDaedra



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst, Apathetic Hero, Banter, Cannon Divergence, Dark Fantasy, Explicit Language, F/M, Fantasy, Fluff and Angst, Graphic Description, Humor, Internal Conflict, Magic, Morrigan and Leliana Rivalry, Multiple Pairings, New Magic, POV Multiple, Romance, Slow Burn, Smut, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:54:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 44,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29385900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdrianDaedra/pseuds/AdrianDaedra
Summary: Adrian Amell, endowed with one of the rarest forms of magic, that of shadow, has escaped the clutches of the Ferelden Circle and travels the countryside in search of a normal living. He will embark on the journey of a lifetime in the company of Jade Cousland, soon-to-be Hero of Ferelden. He must overcome his apathy, and help the people he comes to care about, and will need to assume his true potential to fight back the threats that lie at his doorstep. At last, a life of contrast awaits, torn between the light and the dark, Adrian must pick a side, but that shouldn't be a problem, right? He's been here before, after all...If you like what your reading, I encourage leaving a kudo, or even a comment if you feel up to it! It encourages me to continue writing!
Relationships: Alistair/Female Cousland (Dragon Age), Alistair/Female Warden (Dragon Age), Male Amell/Leliana (Dragon Age), Male Amell/Morrigan (Dragon Age), Morrigan/Male Warden (Dragon Age)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 8





	1. Reticence

**Act I:** **Brightest Light** **and** **Blackest Shadow**

“And that’s when you hit him.” The larger of the two men stood at the bar responded, taking a swig from his mug as his compatriot readied to speak again.

“Right across the eyes with a shovel.” The other, shorter man replied, pointing to exactly where the shovel impacted on his own head.

To be entirely honest I wasn’t quite sure why I was listening in on these two. But they were indeed entertaining, they’d talked about all manner of things and were now on the highly admirable topic of goat-fucking.

“—And now the Templars say I have to pay the bastard money 'cause he went blind” The smaller man continued on which made me snicker quietly into my own mug even as far back as I was in the tavern.

“Not fair!” The larger man added seemingly in offense.

“So I says to him, “You didn’t think he was gonna go blind fucking a goat with mange?!” The smaller of the two finished as they both laughed hysterically.

After a brief interval of laughter, the larger of the two commented, “That woulda been your fault, too.”

Now this I enjoyed, amusing background conversation whilst I idly drink myself away and into a stupor after a decent meal, can’t ask for much better, I say.

“I woulda gotten blamed for that, too.” The smaller of the two repeated.

I looked over to where they were standing at the bar. They both seemed to be wearing working clothes, though in wildly different conditions of wear. The larger of the struck me as the miner type, big, strong, long hair, and his shirt and overalls covered in coal dust all but confirmed that fact. His face seemed oddly clean for someone of that particular profession, though. _Must’ve already washed the soot off and out of his hair, then._ I thought to myself. The other of the two, the shorter, seemed to be a farmer, or maybe a farm _hand_ , couldn’t quite tell from this distance. What I could tell was that he was a short but stocky man with a bald head that looked to have spent most of his life tilling fields and tending livestock.

“But what am I s’posed to do when I find my goat laying on its side in the field, fucked within an inch of its life, and a naked man with blood and straw all over his peck?!” The shorter man asked, picking up his mug as he said it, only to slam it down on the bar, almost to punctuate his statement.

I inwardly chuckled at that and just silently raised a toast to the ceiling and mumbled.

“And with that--one for you good sir.” I said, referencing the Maker above in hopes he wouldn’t strike me down for having heard what I just did.

“Hit ‘im with a shovel!” The other, taller, man replied humorously.

“Fuckin’ right I hit ‘im with a shovel!” The bald man replied, turning his attention to the barhand now. “More ale for me and my cousin, Kob!” He demanded in a high tone.

_Seems they’re cousins, then. That’s quaint._ I thought.

“Brother.” The taller man replied tonally one-note.

That little statement piqued my interest and so I whipped my head around to see them clearly, as fast as my swill-infested head would allow without toppling over, that is.

A questioning grimace appeared on the smaller, stockier man’s chubby face as he pointed a finger in the face of… some member of his family.

“Look, we might’ve had the same father, but you came out of my aunt.”

_Oh dear, sweet fuck, Maker, what am I listening to?_ I thought to myself laughing inwardly.

“—Don’t make me get my shovel.” He finished before the barhand interjected.

“Anyone else while I’m pourin’?” He said, looking out though the Dane’s Refuge to see if anyone else was in need of drink, pewter pitcher in hand.

“One over here.” I stated, my tired and underworked voice cracked out.

  
Just then, a small, scrawny-looking man busted open the door to the inn, letting a quick gust of cold air in. He was panting heavily, as if he’d ran a mile to get here.

“Ale! For Andraste’s sake!”

The bald man from before seemed to recognize the scrawny man who had just entered and was also dressed in a work tunic.

“Peter! We was just wondering if you’d spotted any attractive sheep on your ride out.” The bald man jested, seeming to take no notice of Peters look of sheer panic. Peter approached the bar with a quickened pace and the barhand speedily drug a mug from under the counter and filled it. Peter grabbed the thing, tilted his head back and just let the drink fall into his mouth greedily. After which he resumed his panting.

“The darkspawn—the horde—it’s been seen, sweeping west!” Peter exclaimed, earning worried looks from the few others who were present in the tavern at this hour.

“Shit! You think they’ll reach us?” Kod asked, concerned.

“I think they might pass us by. I don’t know. I hope. I’m told their closing in on Ostagar!”

“Pah, serves ‘em right. Stuck-up bastards.” The stockier man remarked.

“Ah, come on, Bosha.” The barhand replied, trying to make the man see reason.

“No. No, it all comes from royal families and the houses, dud’nit? Bosha said, beginning his spiel. “The great houses of Ferelden.” He stated, only to follow his statement with a loud hawk spit to the ground. “The capital? All run by the royal and the great houses. The Grey Wardens? An old fable. And they’re not even the worst. The Mages?” He asked, now redirecting his disrespectful speech.

At the mention of the word mage, I sobered a bit and my attention truly focused in for the first time.

“We should have killed all the Mages.” He finished, his voice now becoming more aggressive.

“Shiiit…” I whispered to myself.

“It’s all about these people, people like The Grey Wardens, mages, the great families, and the royals. They control all the power and go to war with each other. And whose caught in the middle?” Bosha said, holding his arms out, expecting his question to be answered.

“We are—” Kob answered, but was quickly cut off from proceeding further.

  
“--We are!” Bosha exclaimed resuming his speech. “Because we don’t matter. Do you know why? Where’d you come from?” He asked Kob, trying to make a point.

“Well, outta your aunt, according to you.” Kob said, offering up his final answer to the question.

“You came from shit.” Bosha said, raising his voice and firmly poking his pointer finger on Kob’s chest. “I came from shit. We all came from shit! We weren’t born with any fancy magic, or royal blood. We just work for a living every day of our lives. All these people who say they want to protect us, have turned a blind eye! We just work to keep those bastards of the upper-echelon in food and furs—”

I grew tired and bored of listening to the man go on, and on, ranting until he was blue-in-the-face. But the drink kept me sitting there, that was, until I went for a swig and felt no liquid touch my lips. I’d run out.

I turned it over and shook it a bit to see if there was some pocket dimension where the rest of the drink had gone off to. As all intelligent members of society would do, of course. Unfortunately for me, an infinite fountain of beer was not in the cards for me, and so I reluctantly got up from my booth and began my long trek to the bar counter.

When I stood up, I quickly realized just how hard this was going to be. I’d gotten used to my sitting in my booth, the lack of motion helped more than I could tell, it seemed. Nonetheless I would need to press on, one step at a time.

With every step, the room seemed to twist and contort around me, shifting, this way, and that.

_That’s it—one foot after the other—slowly…_ I thought to myself as I neared the completion of my great journey.

Once I got there I nearly fall onto the counter, tripping on uneven ground a bit. I realized then that sound was just returning to me, and it would seem that to even be able to walk I had to focus my diluted senses to intensely that my hearing had to be muffled. But once I stopped, all was well again, and Bosha’s speech filtered back into my consciousness.

“—Slaves! That’s what we are. Slaves to the old families, the mages, the Wardens, and the crown!”

“Sorry. Can I get my ale? It’s just that I think I’m sobering up” I interjected, having to focus all of my swimming attention on the barhand.

“All right, all right, but wanna see some coin from ya now.” He ordered, eliciting an exhausted groan from myself.

Now, I would need to start digging around in my many filled pockets in my coat to find my coin purse… drunk. This was bound to be a fun little puzzle for me to crack. After a few minutes of shift around my body weight and nearly stumbling over twice, I found my coin purse and pulled it from my coat.

“Hey, what’s that on your chest?” Bosha asked, aggressively.

I didn’t quite register his temper and the time, and looked over to him, slowly, so as to not dizzy myself too much further.

But thank the Maker I was able to realize what he’d just noticed and quickly cover it up with my coat, even in my stupor.

“Oh… my shirt.” I responded calmly, turning my attention back to barhand.

“Just one more tankard, eh?” Something to keep me warm while I find a tree to sleep under.” I said, having to speak slowly to avoid slurring so I didn’t _seem_ as pitifully drunk as I was.

“That’s a crest. I know it.” Bosha said, advancing closer now.

I just fell back on what I knew worked in these sorts of situations. It wasn’t the first, and will surely not be the last.

“I don’t.” I said, offering a weakened, drunken half-smile, just to try and pass off as ignorant for just a bit longer until I could get out of here. “Just one more drink and then I’ll leave all, all right?” I asked the barhand once again.

The short, chubby man then got within a few inches of me and stuck his face far too close to my own. Instinctively causing me to reel back and widen my grey-blue eyes, just to be able to take in such speedy motion.

“That’s a mage’s crest.” Bosha affirmed harshly.

“Really?” I asked slowly, playing fool. “Look, here’s the money.” I said, tossing my purse on the counter for the drink. The coins sounded off a loud clink as they landed.

“You’re a mage, aren’t you?” Bosha said, still present in my personal space, obviously trying to intimidate me. “Ferelden Circle!”  
  


“Never met them.” I replied, now starting to become frustrated with him. “Listen, just forget it. I’ll just go.” I said, starting to walk towards the door, apparently too slow to escape Bosha’s firm grasp on my shoulder as he shoved me back.

“No! You’re a mage! This is all your fault.” He exclaimed. Now I was sure he wanted to pick a fight.

But… to be honest, just that shove took every bit my leg strength to keep my standing, not sure how a full-blown fight would fare.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I said, keeping the fatigued tone, trying to defuse the situation as best I could—a fight wouldn’t end well for me in this state.

“Yes, you do.” Kob remarked, taking his place at his brother’s side.

“Yes, you do…” Bosha added. “Everyone knows that mages have dealt in black magic. The mages have dealt with demons.”

“The mages fought demons, son.” I returned firmly. Marking the first time I’d changed my tone. It was a mistake, a dead giveaway.

But this conversation had grown tiresome, and had become an impediment to me. “…Or so I’m told.” I added, desperately trying to recover.

I pointed to the shirt I was wearing under my coat, the one that possessed the Ferelden Mage Circle’s introductory sigil, the one I’d ripped from my robes and sowed into my shirt myself.

“This is just an old shirt.” I informed, telling a half-truth.

“The mages were put in that tower by the Chantry, locked away, hidden, because they were uncontrollable, and because they were evil…” Bosha said, continuing to spew his ignorant, indoctrinated ideology.

“Evil.” Kob added for no real reason at all. And it was at that moment that I realized he had one eye higher than the other, maybe he was dropped on his head as a child…?

“And now the armies of the dark march on Ostagar. And whose fault is that?” Bosha accused, now clenching his fists that hung at his sides.

“Well, it ain’t mine.” I said as I flailed my hands up to shoulder-height in surrender.

“The mages practiced all manner of black magics, and now black magic is soon to fall upon Ferelden!” He exclaimed, working himself into an even more tensed knot. The muscles in his face even started to clench, most noticeably his jaw. “I think you know exactly whose fault that is.”

I simply stared at him for a bit, wondering how, in the name of Andraste’s divine tits he came to that conclusion. But I would give them one more chance to be civil.

I raised my hands in surrender once again, “I’m leaving, okay? I’m. Leaving. Now.” I said, speaking slowly enough that they could understand, wouldn’t want to insult their inbred ears by speaking to quickly, now would I? I began walking towards the door once again…only to have my arm batted in an effort to get my attention.

“So you can lead your darkspawn friends back here?!” Bosha asked in an even more aggressive tone than before.

_He’s just bound and determined to get his ass rocked, huh?_ I thought.

Now I’d given them more than enough chances to leave me be, and now I was done.

“So I can find somewhere to piss and somewhere else to sleep.” I said in a low, but hostile tone through gritted teeth.

Bosha didn’t immediately respond, instead opting to walk closer to me so that we were face-to-face. It was then that I noticed just how much taller I was then him, and just how much taller Kob was than I.

“No, you can sleep right here.” Bosha suggested lowly.

Well, if it wasn’t entirely evident to me before, it was now. This man _wanted_ to fight me, badly, and more than likely the big man in the back, Kob, would join in, too. They weren’t going to let me leave, fisticuffs were inevitable at this point. In that case, what’s the harm in a punchline?

With that thought simply smiled softly at him “You haven’t got your shovel.”

Even though I knew that comment would infame him, and he would most likely go for a punch, I wasn’t able to react fast enough and took a clean hook to the jaw sending me stumbling backwards. The pain was bad, but the dizziness was worse. It took a few second just for me to make out where I was again. It’s exactly what I was afraid of. After which I noticed that my lips had become warmer than usual, and, to no shock of my own, he’d busted them.

“I don’t need it. Confess, and I’ll make it quick.” Bosha said, standing tall and proud of what he’d done. “What’s your name?”

“Andraste, wife of the Maker.” I said sarcastically as I got back to my feet. “Look, I don’t want to hurt you, but I can, and if you keep pestering me—” I stated, only to be interrupted by a work boot being aggressively inserted into my groin at full force.

I let out a pitiful, closed-mouth squeal as I dropped right back to my knees. If it didn’t already have the brewing feeling of sick in my stomach from the alcohol, I did now. The only thing that stopped me from spilling myself all over the floor and Bosha’s shoes was sheer power of will.

“Try again.” Bosha demanded smugly as I kneeled before him, gripping myself tenderly.

“Adrian Amell. House of Amell. Youngest son of the Amell family. And Mage of the Ferelden Circle. Happy now?” I whimpered out as the pain now echoed though my guts and up to my chest.

“No.” He said as he lifted the same leg to kick me in my face. I pulled a fast maneuver and got to my feet as I grabbed his leg and held it there for a moment or two.  
  
At this point, he only had one foot on the ground, so I decided to lift his airborne leg higher. He’d either have to fall, or have his joints stretched until the tendons tore. As expected, he chose the less painful route and fell right to the ground, his fat body making a forceful thump on the floorboards.

I decided to take these next few seconds to gloat a bit before I shoved my boot heel into his jaw causing him to spit a bit of blood.

“Oi!” Kob yelled as he ran towards me as he gave me a hard crack on my jaw, throwing me off of Bosha.

Though, as _special_ as Kob seemed to be, did my work for me, since when he ran to pursue me after his successful hit, he got a bit too excited and failed to notice his brother’s face just under his boot and carelessly slammed his boot right into Bosha’s nose as he came for me, earning a frustrated,

“Fucking face down ‘ere!”

I was able to shove Kob off for a bit only to be met with the bony fist of Peter who was able to land one solid hit on me. Overconfident, he went for another, but all I needed to do with him was shove him his face into support pillar behind him, knocking him out cold.

I wasn’t ready however, for Kob to be standing behind, readying his own offense. With no chance of dodging, I simply looked him in the eyes with the best pup-eyes I could muster for what amounted to roughly a half-second before I was punched nearly across the room. I landed face-first on the floor and my lips felt the rough texture of the wooden flooring. On an even more depressing note, the longer this fight was going on, the more sober I was becoming. Completely undoing all my hard work for the past three—maybe four or so hours.

“That’s how you want it? Listen. I used to fight fucking demons.” I bragged, barely getting back on my still-drunken feet, blood leaking from my right nostril and both corners of my mouth now.

Just then, Peter, back from the dead, delivered yet another on-contact blow to my poor jawline and restrained my arms behind my back.

_You naughty little cunt, thought you were out. Guess you know how to play possum._ I thought at the sudden reappearance of Peter into the fray.

“Kick him!” He yelled to Kob as a truly evil glint formed in his eyes.

  
At this point, I feared for my life. I knew exactly what he was about to do, Peter, little shit, was stronger than he looked it seemed.

_If I could—just--get my hand—out I--_ I thought, though I was gravely interrupted as big man Kob took his turn to crush my balls.

I wanted to cry out, to curse all the gods, of the past, present and future for letting this happen to me. But all that came to me was the sound more akin to a hurt puppy.

My eyes quickly returned to Kob, who was standing quite proud of himself above me. He ought to be, I was sure it was the most he’d ever accomplished.

“Would you please leave my testicles alone?” I whisper-yelled at him through a clenched jaw.

In response, all Kob could offer was a simply disrespectful left hook to the cheekbone.

_Now I was mad, he couldn’t even offer condolences for my abused genitalia? What kind of a man was he?!_ I thought as I pulled all the explosive force left in my body to jump up and slam the back of my head into where I assumed Peter’s face was. And judging by the pained cry and dull pain in the back of my head, I was right.

Bosha came for one last, desperate punch. Since the fight had sobered me up a bit, I was able to see it coming, he wouldn’t be gettin’ a second one on me tonight. I ducked out of the way and took the side of his face in my left hand slammed the right side forcefully into one of the dining tables, putting him out of the fight.

Now, only Kob was left, and with my slightly-less drunken state, I _might_ be able to win.

“I’m Adrian-fucking-Amell, and I’ve never lost a fight to man, nor fucking beast.” I boasted, growling it out exhaustedly as I sorely stumbled toward Kob, wiping some of the blood off of my face.

Kob was clever, as far as bar fights go, at least. He went for a low folding kick to my shin and I did, indeed, fold like a warm, fresh pair of nightclothes. What hurt the worst wasn’t the fall or even the pain in my shin. What hurt the worst was that _retarded,_ inbred little laugh he let out after having done it. That. Hurt me, somewhere deep down, I think.

As soon as my vision returned to him, I saw the massive, towering man holding a dining chair above his head. And my eyes quickly went from squinting with anger, to wide with fear in no time at all.

“Oh, shit.” I said, barely audible, and slightly above a whisper.

He yelled loudly, like that of an insane barbarian before he slammed the chair down on my head and that was all…

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Once I came to, I found myself still laying on the warm wooden floor of the Inn, gazing up at the barhand whose was shining one of his mugs.

“Finally awake, huh? Get all that piss out your system?”

I looked around, everything else other than the barhand was still blurry, and the light hurt my eyes and head for another thing.

“Huh? Y-Yeah, sure.” I said clawing my way back onto my feet. “I’ll just be taking that drink now.” I said to him, only for him to respond with a shake of his head. “What do you mean, no? I paid! I—”

“After that?! I should have drug you outside, myself. No drink for you.” He interrupted as a disappointed expression came upon my face, but I hadn’t the energy to press the issue further anymore. “Here’s your coin, take it and get out of here.” The barhand said, tossing my purse which my trained hand-eye coordination was able to pick up and allow me to catch, if only just barely. I fumbled around with the purse and tied it back to my belt.

“Oh, and before you go.” The barhand said as I grabbed my cloak from the rack. “Your secret is safe here, as for them… I’m not so sure. So I’d stay out of the village, were I you.”  
  
This act of kindness seemingly from nothing truly surprised me. And beckoned me to ask, “But… why? Why not tell the Chantry? There’s probably some kind of reward out there for me, you could get paid.”

“You think you’re the only man with a past that let slip a few dirty details while deep in his cups? No. Also, I’m a barhand, not a cleric, I’ve got no great love for the Chantry.”

I didn’t really know how to respond, truthfully. I’d trained and hardened myself to be strong in the face of danger and prejudice, but kindness was not something I was used to.

In that vein, I gave a silent nod and turned my back as I continued to stumble out of the tavern.

Upon exiting, I felt the cool air envelope me quickly, and for some reason, returned that dreaded feeling of sick. No longer able to hold back the tide anymore, I let it all loose onto the ground outside, just beside the steps in.

Afterwards, I began walking out of Lothering, leaving my pretty pile of sick to freeze or something. My quest was to find someplace suitable to rest under for the night and hope that darkspawn wouldn’t come calling. As I ventured further, and further from the village’s limits the cold autumn air began to rush though my hair and past my face more regularly now. The air, combined with my expulsion of that poison, already was sobering back to my normal state.

What a day…


	2. Alive

**Three days earlier**

The Wilds were always more glorious when I saw them through the eyes of a raven. The feeling of soaring above the trees and seeing just barely past the edge of the known world granted a sense of possessiveness. These Wilds were _mine_. For no one else seemed to want them, but they meant more to me than all the pretty baubles in the world. They were, perhaps, the only thing I truly owned.

As I soared, I could feel the crisp fall air under my dark wings. The tall pines fluttered in the breeze, and off in the distance the sunset filled the sky with rich purples and oranges. But not everything I had seen as I flew that day filled me with joy. Smoke gathered on the horizon. A dark mist swept through my woods that I could not understand. Something was not right. Something had been very, _very_ wrong for longer than I wanted to admit. Perhaps, one day soon, I would become a wolf and travel all the way to where the smoke rose. Maybe then I could see what - or whom - plagued my Wilds, and could rain hell down upon them. But supper would be ready any moment, now. My investigation would have to wait, lest Mother get impatient. 

I flew down below the trees and landed on the forest floor on two legs. I brushed off my patchwork leather skirt and straightened the crooked bun that held up my dark hair, pulling twigs from it all the while. I rolled my slim neck back and forth, getting rid of the ache that had grown there. It was a quick jaunt back to the hut I lived in with my mother, and I jogged the distance. I ran my hand along the stumps of the trees and smiled to myself as a strong gust of autumn wind pushed me forward. 

I caught sight of five dead birds all in a row on the forest floor caused me pause. I had seen the likes of this before, a few times in the past month. And it hadn’t always been birds. I grimaced and shook my head. _I must deal with this—but later…_ _I promised myself, before I simply shook my head and continued on._

I soon arrived outside the hut faced with mother’s back, who stood hunched over the pot on the fire with a bowl of stew in her hand. 

“Morrigan!” she cried to the forest, cupping her hand over her mouth to make her shrill voice travel farther.

“I am here, Mother,” said I, already standing over the pot and taking in its aroma.

“Oh, good, you’ve decided to join me, have you? Where have you been, girl?” She croaked at me.

“Trying to see what it is that haunts our Wilds, Mother. Lest you have forgotten that smoke rises to the south and animals die by the hundreds,” I spat more rudely than I’d intended, as I made myself a bowl.

“Hmph. I thought you had a bigger head on your shoulders. The King gathers his army to the north. He gathers _Grey Wardens_. Do you think he does so simply because he has nothing better to do?” 

From the point, on, I kept my thoughts on the matter to myself. I wished to speak to my mother no longer than I had to. And, in truth, what she said had worried me. I had pushed the thought of darkspawn to the very back of my mind. It was too terrible to imagine, and too unlikely. No, I would have to see it with my own eyes or not at all. _Tonight, I would go,_ I promised myself. The King was a fool—what did he know? Whatever threat lurked here, I could handle it well enough. 

For the meal, we ate inside, and in relative silence. When Mother finished, she stood and stomped out the fire in their fireplace.

“We must make sure none of the King’s soldiers wander our way,” she said as she did, “If they do, we shall have to defend ourselves. As we always have.”

“If I see any, I shall take care of them,” I resolved quickly, wanting to finish my bowl before I entertained anything in length.

“No,” Mother said quickly, almost concernedly, which struck me as odd. She had never shown any regard for human life that was dull enough to trample around in the Wilds “Only if they get too close. If they are here for their darkspawn, do not interfere. We two cannot stand against an entire horde alone, girl.”

I rolled my eyes but once again said nothing. And mother left the hut soon after, nowhere to be found. But I did not care where she had gone. She often left unceremoniously, sometimes for weeks or more, and sometimes I did not even take notice. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 _ **Later that night...**_

When I left the hut, the sky was dark, but the moon’s glow was enough for me to see with. _Perfect_ , I thought. I would need the cover of darkness for what I had planned. It took one glance above the tree line to know where I was headed, and with that, I was off, and left with a sprint. I was a few paces into the woods when my feet became paws, my body now covered with silver fur, and my nose grew out from my face and into a wolfish snout. I knew exactly the spot where the smoke came from. I knew that I could not make the journey tonight, but I knew a good vantage point that would tell me all I needed to know. 

My feet hit the ground in a steady rhythm that made my heart swell. With the ears of a wolf, I could hear each leaf that crunched beneath my paws; each bird that pushed through the leaves of trees in a panic as I grew near. Indeed, I was fearsome this way. 

Not to say that I didn’t fancy myself as fearsome otherwise. But men, as they were to do, took me for a silly young girl lost in the woods. Something they could rescue and protect, and take back to their wealthy parents upon which they would be granted with a handsome reward, and maybe even my hand. That was the story I often went with, anyway. Before I lured them back to their hut and Mother cut their hearts out. 

In many ways, I felt more herself when I became something else. More fearsome, more perceptive, more free. When I would catch a rabbit between my claws and rip it in two by the neck, I could feel the blood rush to my head and the bond between myself and my Wilds grow one bit stronger. I felt utterly _ravenous_. And I was home.

I lost track of time in animal form, that was true. As I grew aware of my surroundings, I realized I must have been miles from their hut, and was nearing my destination. The smell of blood and rotting corpses filled my nose and I began to prowl with caution. At the sight of the first body, I recoiled. Not at its ghastly visage, but at its mere presence. It was a soldier, I noted. He should not be here, not this far from Ostagar. As I walked between two trees and into the clearing I had once been familiar with, I could no longer recognize it. Bodies littered the ground up to the cliff—all soldiers. I turned and saw three more hanging limply from trees, and shuddered. 

As I edged towards the cliff, a different corpse drew her attention. It was no man. It had a body short and stout, and wore armor the make of which I had never seen before. It was sharp with hard edges and had the color of rust accenting its dark plate. Its skin, colored with greens and browns, looked like a man’s that had been boiled or stabbed beyond recognition. Its eyes were mere sockets; it had nostrils with no nose and a mouth with no lips. When my paw reached out to touch its clawed hand, the beast jolted and screeched with the high-pitched sound of a which should only come from flock of crows. In a panic, I latched my teeth onto its neck and ripped violently at the skin until it separated entirely, spilling blood onto the dirt, and the beast stilled. 

A drowsy feeling overtook me, and I slowly lifted my head to see what I had come for. The smoke seemed much closer now, and I could see in the distance that it rose from a clearing I knew had not been there before. I could see a large hole in the ground, which must have had the diameter of mine and Mother’s hut five times over. Surrounding it, I saw even more corpses hanging by the neck, and towering, sharp fences adorned with heads on spikes. A low rumble came from the clearing and I could see armed figures moving about, though I could not make out any other details. 

I knew then, in my gut, that Mother had been right. The creature that lay by my feet was unrecognizable. The sight underneath the smoke was one more horrific than anything I had seen, and all at once I was filled with hatred and rage. I ran, as fast as my feet could carry me, back the way I came. I realized, however, that I would need to take the long way around, lest these… monsters catch me. I knew nothing of their temper and wasn’t willing to test it for myself. The forest was nothing but a blur in my peripheral vision, now. As I neared a smaller clearing with a pond, I could hear the sounds of laughter and shouting male voices. I scowled and neared closer to look over the area. Down below, two men bathed in the spring while one more sat on a rock. _More soldiers_ , _had to be,_ I thought, _too far into the Wilds for their own good, and too close for comfort to the hut_. 

“Peter, You fuckin’ twat!” The shorter of the men in the water shouted, “Hurry up an’ get in ‘ere!”

The man on the rock was small, thin, and looked haggard and worried. “These parts… supposed to be where the Witch of the Wilds lives. Say nothing of the damnable darkspawn!”

“Oh, _fuck you_!” the other, larger man, with visibly longer hair in the lake cried.

“Well, I don’t want to fuckin’ anger the cunt, do I?” he yelled back from the rock, “What if this is her pond?”

“Not to worry, mate! I just pissed in it! Claimed it as my own, I did. Ain’t her pond no more,” The large one boasted and laughed heartily. The other violently splashed him and backed away from him frantically.

“By Andraste’s tits you did! Kob, you disgusting wanker…”

As I emerged from where I was hidden in the shadows beneath the trees, I growled. The thin man on the rock saw me first, and turned white as a bedsheet.

“Oi, what’s the matter? Looks like he’s seen a ghost!” the stout one from the spring said, who had not seen me yet. The man on the rock quickly grabbed his little sword and sprinted away from the clearing and away from me, tripping over grass and twigs as he did.

The other two caught on eventually, pointing and staring wordlessly at my wolf form. They rushed from the spring, nude and screaming, grabbing their tattered clothes and using it only to cover their modesty as they ran after their friend. 

  
After the vile men retreated into the dark, and were out of sight I caught onto another, familiar sent, but it did not come from the direction it had in the past. The sent was that of burning willow wood. Mother used it when she would cook, claimed it gave the stews more flavor. Now though, the sent was not coming from the direction of home, but in the opposite direction. As these were indeed my Wilds, it was my duty to safeguard it, and investigate this before arriving home. Though I would do so reluctantly. If it was nothing, at least I could sleep a modicum sounder, knowing it was _only_ an apocalypse that threatened my home.

I dashed quickly through the narrow paths of the forest floor, set and charted by generations of the creatures of the Wilds before me. I stopped for a moment to see a small plume of smoke rising through the leaves of the bushes and trees. As I approached closer to the small grove from which the smoke rose, I saw the soft orange glow of a campfire. After a moment of scanning the clearing diligently for traps, I saw yet another man, asleep with his head tucked between two roots of one lone tree in the grove. I decided, then, that it was safe to approach and investigate further.

  
I stepped out of the brush and saw that his fire had almost completely died out, only leaving embers to smolder. The man had covered himself in a black long-coat and used what resembled a bunched-up cloak as a pillow of sorts. He did not appear to be Templar, or soldier, but no mere camper in their right mind would come this far into the Wilds to sleep. I got closer and observed his features while he slumbered as best as my canine eyes to see. It was clear that he was a young man, no evidence of age had taken to his skin, and no matured beard was present. Black wavy hair sat atop his head, but in the soft glow of the embers I could see that his ebony mane was not entirely immaculate, grey had seasoned in on the sides of his head. _Most curious,_ I thought, not entirely sure how it was possible for someone who looked as young as he to show his age in that way. All else seemed to be… arranged quite well as far as attractive features go, full eyebrows, proportionate nose, sharp jawline, but I was not able to see the eyes of this odd man. Which, paradoxically, was the thing I found myself wanting to see the most.

Soon though, thoughts of grim business shook me from my girlish fantasies. Was I to kill this defenseless man, or spare him as Mother ordered? At this distance, it would be effortless to clamp my jaws around his throat and end him, just as I had done to that creature earlier. And, as if hearing that thought, he began to stir and his eyelids began to flutter, causing me to step back quickly. In doing so, one of my paws crushed a fallen leaf and I made the quick decision to change my form to that of a raven and fly into the tree above him. And not a moment too late, he jolted from his sleep, sitting up, and in one fowl swipe—severed of the nearby flowers and weeds that grew at the base of the tree sending the petals floating down and into the dirt. I watched him look around, scanning tactfully the area around him, _merely a second later and he would_ _have taken my head,_ I surmised. He must have known I was there. For how long? I couldn’t say, possibly from the time I exited the brush. It would seem he was not as defenseless as I had expected, I had underestimated my prey. With that, I had come to my decision, I would leave him, for tonight, and perhaps he would still be here by the morrow, so that I may return and finish my investigation. I was too weak to fight now, and had expended far too much energy tonight, I needed to get home. Still in my birdlike form, I flew from the tree above the strange man, making an audible rustle amongst the barren limbs at my departure, no doubt calling his attention skyward as I did.

I made my way down to the spring nearest to the hut. I went over to it and, dipped my beak into the lake to quickly wash it off and have a small drink. After I had washed, I took in my reflection once more before it became that of a young woman with the moon and stars decorating the sky behind her.

The walk back to the hut was slow and solemn. What I had seen tonight held…consequences that I did not like to think on. And though the young man under the tree offered some measure of distraction, I couldn’t simply put what I had seen out of my mind. I would not leave this forest, ever. I had promised myself that when I was very young. 

Of course, I had not always wished for that. Once, when I was small and foolish, I had found myself in a little town on the outset of the Wilds. There had been a festival that day, and I had seen floats and carriages of all shapes and colors parading down the street. Then, I did not understand any of it. But I watched intently with wide eyes that had never seen anything so wonderful—or so I believed. Back then, I never quite appreciated what I had. 

The most ornate carriage of them all held a noble woman dressed in white and gold finery that waved prettily to the common people as she passed them by. My little self, silly as I was, had walked up to the carriage and deigned to reach up and touch her, as if to confirm that she were real. Looking back on it now, I was lucky I had not had my hand chopped off. But the woman was kind, and smiled warmly at the small, pretty girl I had been. She reached back into the carriage and produced a small hand mirror, the very same color as her dress, painted a brilliant gold with beautiful sparkling vines and flowers carved into the woodwork, and encrusted with jewels around its edges. She handed it to me, and it had been the only thing I had eyes for all the way back to the hut. 

My joy though, had been short-lived. The day Mother returned; she was furious. In truth, I had never seen her quite as angry as she had been that day. As I screamed and cried, Mother smashed the mirror upon the floor. She had told me then that beauty and wealth were fleeting, and had no meaning. Survival had meaning, though. Power had meaning. She left me in my room and I did not come out for three days. Then, naïve as I was, I had not understood what my mother had told me; not comprehended its value. Now I did, though. As much as I despised the old crone, she had raised me with everything she knew and valued. 

But on this night, I did not know what I would do. The Wilds were all that I had ever known, and all I treasured in this world. If the darkspawn threat grew, I knew myself and Mother alone could not contain it. We would have to leave, or die. 

I had not shed a tear since the day my pretty mirror had been smashed. But, that night, when I arrived at the hut, I sat upon my bed and wept quietly into the dark.


	3. Betrayal

**_Three weeks earlier,_ **

Feeling the rays of the morning sunlight on my face, I began to stir in my bed. After a few minutes of groaning and half-asleep protest, I sat up in my bed, legs still under the comforter. I would have stayed in bed longer, but today was quite the important day, my elder brother was to carry the banner of my house to the south to fight the darkspawn threat, at the king’s orders, no less. I wanted to be out there, helping them, but I was to stay here, with my mother. Sure, tourneys were fun, but mostly filled with men who, in the face of real danger, would be no more a challenge to their opponent than a toddler waving around a stick. But I will get my time… one day… I’m sure of it…

But I had to remember that today was not about me, it was about celebrating the achievements of my brother, and saying goodbye to both him and my father, as they would be heading south. I would be lying if I said I was completely unworried for their safety though. These were darkspawn we are talking about, among the darkest, most cruel, and evil creatures to ever exist. They have brought entire kingdoms of old to their knees, but not this family. Not the Couslands.

After I had bathed and gotten dressed in my clothes that one of the servant girls had organized for me, I left to answer the summons of my father. I would not normally abide so easily, but today my father must be extremely stressed, so I chose to listen well.

  
As I approached the Main Hall, I eavesdropped on a conversation that my father was having with someone, presumably Arl Rendon Howe.

“I trust, then, that your troops will be here shortly?” I heard my father say from behind the door. Rarely did I ever get to hear him when he was not aware of my presence, and was curious as to what he would be saying

“I expect they will start arriving tonight, and we can march tomorrow. I apologize for the delay, my lord. This is entirely my fault.” Said the other man. I confirmed it was Arl Rendon Howe indeed.

“No, no. The appearance of the darkspawn in the south has us all scrambling, doesn’t it? I only received the call from the king a few days ago, myself.” My father objected.

“I’ll send my eldest off with my men. You and I will ride tomorrow, just like the old days!” Father added.

Arl Rendon Howe, and my Father, the great Bryce Cousland, had been friends for many years, and were more like brothers now. Rendon was around a lot when me and my brother, Fergus, were growing up, and we treated him as one would treat an uncle. He would always bring us neat gifts he found in the marketplace in Denerim, mostly exotic imports. Once time Rendon came over for a week’s vacation in summer and brought Fergus, who was older than I, an ornate chevalier sword, imported from Orlais, and me a puzzle box that was crafted in Kirkwall. But recently, he has been…distant. But I know that he has been busy with the recent situations in Denerim, and to demand more time of him would be selfish, as my mother would say.

“True. Though we both had less gray in our hair then. And we fought Orlesians, not…monsters.” Arl Howe said

My father laughed and replied,

“At least the smell will be the same!”

After my father said this, I decided I had had enough of hiding in the shadows and stepped out to greet these two men. I was excited to see Rendon again. And I wanted to make sure I could spend as much time as possible with my father before his departure, which now seemed to be delayed.

“Oh, I’m sorry Jade; I didn’t see you there. Howe, you remember my daughter?” Asked my father

“I see she’s become a lovely young woman. Pleased to see you again, my dear.” Rendon said and smiled at me.

“And you, Arl Howe.” I said as I respectfully bowed.

  
“My son, Thomas, asked after you. Perhaps I should bring him with me next time.” Rendon said.

“I’ve no interest in an arranged marriage.” I said, having the foresight to see where this particular line of thought would inevitably lead.

“See what I contend with, Howe? There’s no telling my fierce girl anything these days, Maker bless her heart.” My father said, simply grinning and bearing it for me.

“Quite talented, I’m sure. One to watch.”

“At any rate, pup. I summoned you for a reason. While your brother and I are both away, I’m leaving you completely in charge of the castle.” Father revealed, much to my excitement.

I had been waiting for that sentence for nearly two decades now. I was finally getting my chance to prove myself! Maybe not in the way I had at first wanted, but it was a proving nonetheless! Immediately, ideas of what I would set the servants to work on, what I would need to attend to personally, came flooding in. I hated that the situation in the south that finally was pressuring my father to make this decision, but I wasn’t about to try and dissuade him.

“I will do my best, father.”

“Good, then that is the best we can hope for. Only a token force is remaining here, and you must keep peace in the region. You know that they say about mice when the cat is away, yes?” My father asked rehrotically,“There is also someone you must meet. Please…show Duncan in.” My father commanded

The guards opened the door into the main hall, and a taller man with tan skin and pulled up hair, and a full black beard came walking in. His armor and weapons were unique, I had never seen anything like it before, it looked… ancient, in some way.

“it is an honor to be within your halls, Teyrn Cousland.” Said Duncan.

“Your lordship, you didn’t mention that a Grey Warden would be present.” Said Rendon to my Father.

“Duncan arrived just recently, unannounced. Is there a problem?” My father asked.

“Of course not, but a guest of this stature demands certain protocols. I am…at a disadvantage.” Said Arl Howe, slightly embarrassed.

“We rarely have the pleasure of seeing one in person, that’s true. Pup, Brother Aldous taught you what the Grey Wardens are. I hope?” My father questioned me.

“Yes. They defeated the darkspawn long ago.” I responded

“Not permanently, I fear.” Duncan said.

“Without their warning of the darkspawn rising now, half of the nation could have been overrun before we had a chance to react.” My father added.

“Duncan is looking for recruits before joining us and his fellow wardens in the south. I believe he’s got his eye on Ser Gilmore.” Father informed.

  
“If I might be so bold, I would suggest your daughter also looks to be an excellent candidate.” Duncan subtly suggested.

My father positioned himself between me and Duncan, who up until this point were standing across from one another. My father took his protective stance and said.

“Honor though that might be, this is one of my children we are talking about.”

“Is there a reason I shouldn’t join them?” I asked curiously. Why wouldn’t my father want to join a highly respected, ancient order of darkspawn killers, whom have always served Ferelden faithfully.

“You did just finish saying the Grey Wardens are heroes, old friend.” Rendon broke in.

“I’ve not so many children that I’ll gladly see them all off to battle. Unless you intend to invoke the Right of Conscription…?” My father asked gravely.

“Have no fear, while we need as many able-bodied recruits as we can find, I’ve no intention of forcing the issue.” Duncan replied politely.

“Pup, can you see to it that Duncan’s requests are seen to adequately while I’m gone?” Father asked me.

“In the meantime, find Fergus and tell him that he is to lead the troops to Ostagar ahead of me today.” My father commanded.

“Okay, where is he?” I asked, hoping for a response so that it would at least make my job a bit easier in this big castle.

“Upstairs in his chambers, no doubt, spending some last moments with his wife and my grandson.” He said with a visible glint of pride. Nothing in the world I wanted more than him to look like that what he talked about me. “Be a good lass and do as I’ve asked. We’ll speak again soon.”

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I made my way around the castle, checking up on everything, and getting a feel for what it would be like in the coming months. I was to be the acting Teyrn of Highever, one of the most powerful families in Ferelden. I needed to know the going’s on of every nook and cranny in this castle, or risk chaos. Once I made sure of everything, I walked through the alleyways to my brother’s wing and was approached by Ser Gilmore. Ser Gilmore was a good friend of mine and my brother’s. He was originally a boy whom we got on with well as children and he showed good, respectful character. So, when he came of age my father offered him a good position as a guardsman in the castle. He promptly accepted his position, and has steadily risen in rank, ever since his arrival. He was a brawny man with a smooth face and medium length red hair. He was a few inches taller, and a few years older than I.

“There you are! Your mother told me the teyrn summoned you, so I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“Hello to you, Ser Gilmore.” I replied somewhat startled at his sudden approach.

“Pardon my manners, my lady. It’s simply that I’ve been looking all over the castle for you. I fear your hound has the kitchens in an uproar once again. Nan is threatening to leave.” Ser Gilmore said, smiling.

“She was my nanny before she was the cook. Nan won’t leave.” I said chuckling.

Ser Gilmore snickered a little and informed. “Your mother disagrees. She insists you collect the dog, and quickly. You know these mabari hounds. They listen only to their master; anyone else risks having an arm bitten off.”   
  


“He knows better than to hurt anyone.” I said.

“I’m not willing to test that. You’re quite lucky to have your own mabari war hound, you know. “Smart enough not to talk,” my father used to say. Of course, that means he’s easily bored, Nan swears he confounds her just to amuse himself. ” Ser Gilmore laughing.

“At any rate, your mother would have me accompany you until the matter is settled. Shall we?” Ser Gilmore asked, gesturing his hand in the direction of the kitchens.

“Alright, to the kitchens then.” I exclaimed.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

We entered the kitchens and saw nan standing in front of two of our elven servants, barking order after order, in a furious fit.

  
“Get that bloody mutt out of the larder!” Nan commanded fiercely.

“But, mistress! It won’t let us near!” The elven servant girl pleaded.

“If I can’t get into that larder, ill skin both of you useless elves, I swear it!” Nan threatened.

“Err… calm down, good woman. We’ve come to help…” Ser Gilmore broke in.

Nan turned to face us, now finally aware of our presence, with a glare that could easily slay a dragon on the spot.

“You! And you! Your bloody mongrel keeps getting into my larder! That beast should be put down!” Nan exclaimed at us.

“Slow down, he’s not a mongrel! He’s a pureblood mabari!” I responded combatively.

“A blight wolf is what he is! How am I supposed to work like this?!” Nan asked aggressively.

Then, in an effort to calm nan down, the elven servant girl standing behind her said,

“Oh, dear, Mistress, calm down, please—”

“That’s it! I’ll quit. Inform the teyrna. I’ll go work at some nice estate in the bannorn.” 

Ser Gilmore laughed and said.

“Nan, please! We’ll get the dog, calm down.”

“Just get him gone! I’ve got enough to worry about with a castle of hungry soldiers! And you two! Stop standing there like idiots! Get out of the way!” Nan insulted, at the two elven servants, causing them to disperse.

We opened the door to the larder only to see the hound with his nose scraping across the floor, and then he raised his had to look at the right wall of the larder that was filled with different potato sacks. He proceeded to bark at the seemingly empty wall. I looked around and saw all different forms of food strewn across the larder floor. Tomatoes, squash, leeks, everything that one could imagine would be stored in a larder was in far flung corners where the cobwebs were usually swept. There was even a torn bag of grain whose leak had built up a large pile on the ground. My first thought was that this was going to be an extreme pain to clean. But It was hard to fathom that this dog could be this destructive. Ser Gilmore observed the same mess and sighed.

“Look at this mess. How did he even get in here?”

The hound looked at us, wagged his stubbed tail and did what I could only rationalize as a big smile, and he barked at us in what seemed to be a friendly, excited manner. I gave in a patted him on the head and complemented him.

“ What a smart boy you are, breaking into the larder, oh, yes, you are.”

He barked happily in response.

“Oh, encourage the hound, why don’t you? No wonder he keeps giving Nan fits.” Ser Gilmore said.

  
At this, the dog became even more excited , and started happily barking and spinning around in place. Almost as if he was trying to keep my attention.

“He does seem like he is trying to tell you something. Wait, did you hear that?” Ser Gilmore asked

I did indeed hear a crash in right side of the room, by the sacks. The next thing we knew, we were being overrun by rats the size of my forearm. Gilmore drew his sword and I drew my sword that I won at the last tourney, that I had strapped on earlier this morning. We dealt with them quite easily, although it left us both a little dumbfounded. I looked to my right and saw the hound trashing a dead rat in his mouth and then suddenly stopped and looked at me. He looked like I had caught him rummaging though the cookie jar, and promptly dropped the rat and resumed an obedient stance at my side.

“Giant rats? It’s like the start of every bad adventure tale my grandfather used to tell.” Ser Gilmore said to relived the dumbfounded silence.

“Your hound must have chased them in through their holes. Looks like he wasn’t raiding the larder after all.” Added Gilmore.

“Those were abnormally large rats, don’t you think?” I asked

“Trust me, I’ve seen larger. They come up from the Kocari Wilds sometimes. But seeing as you got your mabari well in hand, I’ll be on my way. I’m to prepare for the arrival of more of Arl Howe’s men.” Gilmore informed, as he turned around and left the larder.

Once me and the hound exited the larder, I saw Nan standing there tapping her foot in a most judgmental way.

“There he is, as brazen as you please, licking his chops after helping himself to the roast, no doubt!” said Nan, accusatorially.

“Actually, he was defending _your_ larder from rats. Big ones.” I countered.

“W-what? Rats? Not the large grey ones?” Said the elven servant girl, visibly nervous.

“They’ll rip you to shreds, they will!” The other elven servant boy exclaimed.

“See? Now you’ve gone and scared the servants! I expect those filthy things are dead.” Nan stated.

“Uh-huh they are. My faithful warhound, made sure of it.” I championed.

“Hmph. I bet that dog led those rats in there to begin with.” Accused Nan.

This earned a loud whine from the hound, somehow knowing it was being accused of something it didn’t do. I also proceeded to give Nan the biggest “puppy eyes” I had ever seen. Nan made looked at him and said,

“Oh, don’t even start with the sad eyes! I’m immune to your so-called “charms.” Nan said defiantly.

This would again, earn Nan a loud whine and even more forceful sad eyes from the hound, begging for some form of recompence. At this, Nan sighed and turned around towards the kitchen table and pulled a bowl full of pork bits off the table and leaned down to give it to the whining hound.

“Here, then. Take the pork bits and don’t say Nan never gives you anything! Bloody dog.” Nan said, as the dog happily started inhaling the food.

“ Thank you, my lady. Now we can get to work. That’s right, you too, quit standing about!” Nan loudly commanded at the two servant elves.

I made my way from the kitchens with my loyal hound trailing behind, and decided to start making my way to Fergus’ chambers as my father commanded. I made my way through the alleyways, and saw my mother and some familiar family friends, in the courtyard. They looked to be Bann Loren’s wife and son. Whose name had escaped my mind.

“—And my dear Bryce brought this back from Orlais last year. The marquis who gave it to him was drunk. I understand, and mistook poor Bryce for the king.” Finished my mother.

“Ah, here is my daughter, Jade. I take it by the presence of that troublesome hound of yours that the situation in the kitchens is handled?” My mother asked.

“Yes, he is. There were rats in the larder.” I responded to her questioning.

“Ah, marvelous! Just the thing for my guests to hear right before dinner. Darling, you remember Landy Landra? Bann Loren’s wife?”

I did in fact, remember _most_ of the Loren family, have always been heavily present in the yearly tourney grounds and have always placed in the top three combatants every year for as long as I could remember. It was actually Bann Loren himself that convinced me to start competing in the tourney. Since then I have been able to win three bronze medals in the past years. Most recently, I was able to score a gold medal and won the tourney, that took preparation and training I would never like to go through again, but the rush of the crowd was indeed addicting.

“I think we last met at your mother’s spring salon, yes?” Landy Landra asked.

“Of course, it is good to see you again, my lady.” I said.

“You’re too kind, dear girl. Didn’t I spend half of the salon trying to convince you to marry my son?” Said Lady Landra, still embarrassed over the events that took place at that event.

“And made a very poor case for it, I might add.” Said a young man, maybe two years my senior, with red curly hair. He was wearing vestments that were actually made of gold and red Highever Weave. From what I could remember of this man he was of the Loren family. But I still could not put my finger on his name, embarrassingly.

“You remember my son, Dairren? He’s not married either.” Lady Landra informed

Ah, yes Dairren. He was a challenge to beat but I made a stern effort and surmounted him in the end. Obviosuly, he was bulkier than I was, so I remember playing around that by just making him throw offense at me until he was visibly tired, and then it was quite easy to win the duel.

“Don’t listen to her. It’s good to see you again, my lady. You’re looking beautiful as ever.” Dairren added.

“Thank you.” I responded respectfully, if a bit more stiff than I intended.

“And this is my lady-in-waiting, Iona. Do say something dear.” Said Lady Landra

She pasted on a smile and said,

“It is a great honor, My lady Jade, you are as pretty as your mother describes you.” Said Iona, visibly uncomfortable.

“You would think that would make it easier to make a match for her, not more difficult.” My mother commented.

“Perhaps your daughter simply has a mind of her own, your Ladyship. You should be proud.” Dairren responded.

“Proud doesn’t get me any more grandchildren.” My mother commanded

Now very much done with this conversation, and becoming more, and more aware of my actual duties. I intejected “I can handle my own affiars, thank you, Mother.”

“All evidence to the contrary.” My mother said firmly.

“I think perhaps I shall rest now, my dear. Dairren, I will see you and Iona at supper.” Lady Landra said tiredly.

“Perhaps we’ll retire to the study for now then.” Replied Dairren

“Good evening, your lordship.” Lady Landra stated, making her way to the guest wing.

Mother waited for our respected guests to leave before she suggested.

“You should say goodbye to Fergus while you have the chance.” Mother said with grave finality.  
  


I decided I could maybe find out more about Duncan by questioning my mother on the matter. I was quite interested in him, and his order.

“Did you know there is a Grey Warden here?” I asked curiously.

“Yes, your father mentioned that. You haven’t gotten it into your head that you want to be recruited, have you?” My mother asked, concerned.

“Would that really be so terrible?” I asked my mother.

“There’s enough here in the castle to occupy you. I don’t need you off chasing danger like your brother.” My mother stated.

I inwardly scoffed at that statement. There was enough here to occupy me when I was twelve. Now, it was different, I had this burning desire to prove myself, “I was at that age.” My father would always say. I just needed to be given the chance and I could do it. And if “chasing danger” was the only way I could do it…then…so be it. But… if staying here to manage things was the only way, then that wouldn’t be so bad either.

“Okay…but I just have a bad feeling about all this.” I said

It was true, I had a foreboding feeling the whole day. It was frankly becoming annoying.

“As do I. Your father and brother are marching off to fight Maker-knows-what. All the assurances in the world don’t comfort me. But it wouldn’t help for us to take up arms and follow. Fergus and your father have their duty, and we have ours.” Said mother comforted.

“Are you staying at the castle with me?” I asked curiously.

“For a few days. Then I will travel with Lady Landra to her estate and keep her company for a time. Your father thinks my presence here might undermine your new authority.” Mother informed

“I don’t think you should go.” I pleaded.

“Don’t worry my dear, it won’t be long.” My mother said.

“Would you know where Fergus might be?” I asked, my duties now once again creeping in on me.

“If he is not out with his men. Then he is probably upstairs with Oriana.” My mother informed

“Alright then, I should go.” I said

“I love you, my darling daughter. You know that, don’t you?” Mother asked comfortingly, as she moved my long blonde hair to the side and placed her hand on my cheek.

“I love you too mother.” I responded.

“Go do what you must, then. I will see you soon.”

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I finally made my way to my brother and his family’s chambers. When I opened the door were all standing, talking to one another. I could see that Oriana was visibly worried, and Oren, curious as always, was asking many questions to Fergus about his upcoming adventure.

“Is there really gonna be a war papa? Will you bring me back a sward?”

I always found it quite cute when little Oren would speak. He was at the age where most vocabulary words would come easily to him, but there were still some that impeded him. Oriana had been a good mother all throughout Oren’s life, and had helped brother Aldous teach him when she could. It seemed though, that the word “sword” was still an issue for him.

“That’s “sword” Oren. And I’ll get you the mightiest one I can find, I promise. I’ll be back before you know it.” Fergus said sternly.

My brother was a strong-willed man, and as such, anything he said either came across as stern or extremely proud.

“I wish victory was indeed so certain. My heart is...disquiet.” Oriana chimed-in, worried tears beginning to well up in her eyes

“Don’t frighten the boy, love. I speak the truth. And here is my little brother to see me off. Now dry your eyes, love, and wish me well.” Fergus encouraged, now catching sight of me, as I fully entered the room.

“No darkspawn could harm my brother!” I added, earning me a soft, prideful smile from my brother, in thanks.

“He is as mortal as anyone, despite his refusal to believe.” Oriana countered logically.

“Now, love. No need to be grim.” Fergus defended

“I wish I could go with you.” I confessed truthfully, even if it would be simply to relive my own worrisome thoughts.

“I wish you could come! It’ll be tiring, killing all those darkspawn myself.” Fergus boasted.

“Surely your father would not place both of his children in danger.” Oriana once again added logically.

“Mother and Father have been fighting about it for days now. It’s too bad, I could have used you at my side.” Fergus lamented.

“You will be missed, brother.” I said, finally letting go of my ambition to join him on the battlefield. _It wouldn’t be happening, not while mother and father still breathe._ I reasoned with myself.

“If it’s any consolation, I’m sure I’ll freeze in those southern rains and be completely jealous of you up here, warm and safe.” Fergus joked.

“I am positively thrilled that you will be so miserable, husband.” Oriana said sarcastically.

Changing the subject off such as sensitive topic, I asked.

“Did you know there is a Grey Warden in the castle?” I asked

“Really?! Was he riding a Griffon?” Oren asked excitedly.

“Shush, Oren. Griffons only exist in stories now.” Oriana commanded.

“I did hear about that, yes. Did he say why he’s come?”

“From what I’ve heard, he is recruiting.” I informed

“Oh? If I were a Grey Warden, little sister, I’d have my eye on you. Not that father would ever allow it.” Fergus complimented.

“Do you really think this war will be over quickly?” I inquired

“Word from the south is that the battles have gone well. There’s no evidence this is even a true Blight--just a large raid.” Fergus said encouragingly.

“Could that really be true?” Asked Oriana

“I’ll see for myself soon enough. Pray for me, love, and I’ll be back within a month or two!” Fergus said.

I decided now was a good time to tell Fergus father’s information.

“I bring a message: Father wants you to leave for the south without him… today.” I informed

“Then the Arl’s men _are_ delayed. You’d think his men were walking backwards.” Fergus said, sighing in frustration, then after looking at little Oren. “Well I’d better get underway. So many darkspawn to behead, so little time! Off we go, then. I’ll see you soon, my love.” Fergus comforted, looking at Oriana.

Just then, the door to Fergus’s chambers opened up and in came our parents.

“I would hope, dear boy, that you planned to wait for us before taking your leave.” Father entered the room and said.

Then mother approached Fergus and said,

“Be well, my son. I will pray for your safety every day you are gone.” She lamented, on the verge of tears, now.

“Fergus will be fine.” I stated, in an effort to comfort my mother.

“It’s just as I keep telling you, no darkspawn will ever best me!” Fergus encouraged.

“The Maker sustain and preserve us all. Watch over our children, husbands, and fathers, and bring them safely back to us.” Oriana prayed.

“—And bring us some ale and wenches while you’re at it!” Fergus jokingly added, receiving a sharp glare from his wife. “Err… for the soldiers, of course.” Fergus added in an attempt to save his eternal soul.

“Fergus! You would say this in front of your mother?” Oriana accusingly questioned.

Then, Oren had enough of being quiet and decided to speak his mind.

“What’s a wench? Is that what you pull on to get the bucket out of the well?” Asked Oren, extremely curious.

“A wench is a woman that pours ale in a tavern, Oren. Or a woman who drinks a lot of ale.” Informed, my father with a smile on his face.

My mother then turned on her heel, to face towards my father, and lightly hit him on the shoulder.

“Bryce! Maker’s breath, I swear it’s like living with a pack of small boys!”

This earned a loud chuckle from myself and Fergus.

“I’ll miss you, Mother dear. You’ll take care of her, Jade, won’t you?” Fergus asked me.  
  
“You can count on me.” I said in response.

“Oh, good. How thrilling to know I’m so well-taken care of.” My mother said sarcastically.

“Enough. Enough, Jade, you’ll want to get an early night. You’ve much to do tomorrow.”

Then I bid my family all goodnight, and made my way to my chambers, with my loyal hound Gerard.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I awoke panicked, jolted from a nightmare, with my body sweaty and my heart racing. But I was comforted by the fact that I had returned to the real world. There was nothing that could threaten me here in my chambers. That was until I looked around my room, and saw Gerard was no longer on my bed, but growling at the door. Soon after, I heard hard knocking, and Gerard proceeded to bark angrily at my chamber door. I then questioned him on his unusual behavior.

“What’s wrong, boy? Is someone out there?” I asked, nervous.

As if to answer me, he barked even more at the door and growled.

All at once, I heard a scream coming from a somewhere near me in my wing of the castle. Then, one of the servants barged straight through my door warned.

“Lady Jade! Help me! The castle is under attack!” He screamed

I then saw a bloody arrow protrude from his upper left chest and he collapsed to the ground, choking on his own blood. I immediately jumped into action and slammed the door shut and used all of my strength to move one of the wardrobes in front of the door so that I could put on my clothes and grabbed my sword. The sworf was given to me last year after I placed first in the Ferelden tourney. It was still sharp and well-polished, so I thought it could still do the job.

I moved the wardrobe out of the way of the door and met two swordsman and one archer. I needed to put all of the training I had to use, or risk death. One of them charged me aggressively and I deflected his sword and cut him deep on the side of his torso while spinning past him and was able to make probably the greatest move of combative skill I had ever achieved. I swung my sword with all of my power and cut the archer’s bow in half and stabbed him through the side of his stomach, killing him. Then he last swordsman, shocked at my ability to dispatch two of his comrades in one fowl swoop, wisely stood his ground defensively, and waited for my move. I moved in foot he attack and went for a powerful overhead strike, which was blocked easily by his shield. He sobered me quickly with a forceful shield bash to my jawline. This sent me reeling to my side and almost off balance. He seemed to become overconfident after his successful blow and went for the killing blow. I parried his blow and threw the sword off of me, and that left his entire middle section completely open. I took the chance and stabbed him though the chest. I pushed his body off of my blade and he collapsed to the ground. After I was able to rest for a few seconds was when I finally noticed their heraldry. These were…Arl Howe’s men? But…Why?! Why would they be attacking us. My mind jumped to the worst, could Rendon have truly betrayed us? I needed more information.

My mind immediately went to Oriana and Oren, could they be even alive now. How long have they breached the walls while I was asleep? If they are dead, and I could have prevented it…I just needed to hope beyond hope that they yet lived.

Me and my loyal Gerard quickly dealt with two more of Howe’s men, guarding the door leading to Fergus’s wing. Then my mother barged her way through the door. She was in her old Ferelden army armor, and she exclaimed with relief.

“Darling! I heard fighting and feared the worst! Are you hurt?” She asked worried.

“I’m okay, just shaken. What’s going on?” I asked

“A scream woke me up. There were men in the hall, so I barred the door. Have you seen their shields? Those are Howe’s men! Why would they attack us?” Mother questioned, confused

“It seems that he has betrayed Father! It’s convenient that he would attack while our troops are gone!”

“You don’t think Howe’s men were delayed…on purpose? That bastard! Ill cut his lying throat myself!” Mother exclaimed in rage.

“Have you seen your father? He never came to bed!” Mother inquired

“No, I haven’t. I was in my room, sleeping.”

“Well then we must find him!” Mother commanded.

“Can you still handle a weapon mother?” I asked curiously, she was always strong-willed, but I did not know if her age would have already caught up to her.

“I am no Orlesian wallflower—give me a sword and I’ll use it! Now let’s go!” My mother commanded, as I went over to where one of Howe’s swordsmen lay dead and handed mother his sword and shield.

We made our way to Fergus’s chambers and saw the door ajar; we opened the door fully and…they were slaughtered. Oriana looked to have been stabbed in the stomach. Oren’s little innocent body now lied cold on the floor; his throat slit from one end to the other. He did not deserve this, he just wanted to know more about the world. Now, he would never see the warm morning light ever again. He would never learn any knew words. He would never again make us laugh with his naive questioning. His life taken from him so suddenly, and brutally. The worst part was that, I didn’t even know the reason behind his death.

“No! My little Oren! What manner of fiend slaughters innocents?” My mother wept.

“Don’t look mother.” I said as I averted my eyes.

“Oh, I’ll look. I’ll remember this day when Howe dies screaming like the dog he is!” My mother said with grieving rage.

She looked away and said,

“Oh, poor Fergus…let’s go. I don’t want to see this anymore!” She commanded.

We found our way to the castle alleyways and were making our way to the Main Hall. I needed to find Father, I would never forgive myself for letting Oren and Oriana die, I would **_not_** allow father to die as well. Even if it meant my death. We beat our way through a patrol of Howe's men in the alleyways, taking them by surprise. Once we opened the door to the Main Hall, it was chaos. There were men clashing everywhere, it was like a small battlefield. I spotted Ser Gilmore leading the charge against Howe’s traitorous men, most likely just as shocked as we are.

We fought though the traitors with the help of Ser Gilmore and his remaining men. The only truly difficult traitor to dispatch was a mage that Howe seemed to have in his employ. It was a bloody skirmish and resulted in the death of a couple of our men. I saw Ser Gilmore jump into action after we defeated the present attackers.

“Go! Man, the gate! Keep those bastards out as long as you can!” Ser Gilmore commanded his men.

Ser Gilmore approached us with a look of relief on his face.

“Your Ladyship! My Lord! You’re both alive! I was certain Howe’s men had gotten though!” Ser Gilmore said concernedly.

“They _did_ get though!” I responded.

“They killed Oriana, and Oren…I can’t believe—Are you injured?” My mother added

“Don’t you worry about me, your Ladyship. Thank the maker you two are unharmed.” Ser Gilmore said humbly

Ser Gilmore turned his attention the door that was being manned by his two men and said.

“When I realized what was happening, it was all I could do to shut the gates. But they won’t keep Howe’s men out long! If you’ve another way out of the castle, use it quickly!”

“Gilmore, we _need_ to find Father, if you know anything, please tell us.” I pleaded

“When I last saw the Teyrn, he’d been badly wounded. I urged him not to go, but he was determined to find you. He went towards to the kitchen. I believe he thought to find you at the servants’ exit in the larder.” Ser Gilmore informed.

  
“Bless you, Ser Gilmore. Maker watch over you!” Mother said.

Ser Gilmore looked down at the floor and said.

“Maker watch over us all…” He said as he went to help his men reinforce the gates.

_A valiant man to the end._ I thought, leaving him there to do his finish his duty, and find my father.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Song Choice: Jyn Erso & Hope Suite – Michael Giacchino **

Me and mother made our way to the larder. I thought of Nan, I hoped she was alive, but at this point, odds were that she was

mercilessly killed as well. I still could not believe it; in a single night my entire life was shaken. Everyone I knew and loved were being systematically being taken from me. If I made it out alive tonight…I would need to kill Rendon, this was beyond forgiveness, even for him. He would pay. Me and mother cut our way through another patrol of men in the alleyways leading to the kitchens. We entered, two see the bloodied body of Nan lying on the floor. The worst part was, I couldn’t even cry, I had seen too much already, it was emotional overload. I just needed to see my father alive. Please, good Maker, if you are truly kind, do not take him from me. We proceeded though to the larder door and then…

“There…you both are. I was…wondering when you would get here.” My father groaned out, lying in a pool of his own blood.

My mother covered her mouth with her hands in shock of the sight and exclaimed.

“Bryce!” She said as we ran to his side.

“Maker’s blood, what’s happening? You’re bleeding!” She asked

“Howe’s men…found me first. Almost… did me in right there.” Father once again groaned out in extreme pain.

“We need to get you out of here father!” I exclaimed, hoping he would be able to make it out with me.

“I…I won’t survive the standing. I think.” He said grimly

“That’s not true! You’ll be fine, come on!” I said defiantly. Not allowing my father to give up. All my life he was my hero, I could not see him fall, not now.

He smiled at me though bloody teeth.

“Ah, my sweet girl…if only will alone could make it so.” He replied

“Bryce, Once Howe’s men break through the gate, they will find us! We must go!” Mother pushed.

“Someone…must find Fergus…tell him what has happened.” Father stated.

I grabbed his shoulder, and said encouragingly.

“You will tell him yourself father, then we’ll find that snake, Arl Howe, and execute him, in honor of Cousland name!”   
  
“I…wish I could.” Father said as he groaned once again in pain.

“Bryce, no! The servants passage is right here! We can flee together, find you healing magics!” Mother said, devising a plan.

“The castle is surrounded Eleanor…I cannot make it.”

  
We then turned around to see two more of Howe’s men finding us in the larder. I stood to defend my mother and father, and I saw a sword protrude though one of the men’s chest. As soon as that sword was retracted from his chest, another quickly slit the throat of the other man with great finesse and skill, dispatching the two swordsmen easily. It then saw a bloody Duncan who seemed to be uninjured. He sheathed his blades on his back and said.

“I’m afraid the Teyrn is correct. Howe’s men have not discovered this exit, but they surround the castle. Getting past will be difficult.”

“You are…Duncan, then? The Grey Warden?” My mother asked, seemingly the first time they had met. What horrible circumstances for a first meeting.

“Yes, your Ladyship. The Teyrn and I tried to reach you sooner.” Duncan said, ever polite.

“My daughter helped me get here, Maker be praised.” Mother said looking at me.

Duncan looked at me, and said with a soft smile.

“I am not surprised.”

“Are you going to help us, Duncan?” I asked. Trying to cut to chase. I wanted my father out of here alive and the more time we burned the less likely that outcome was.

“Whatever is to be done now, it must be quick! They are coming!” Mother exclaimed worriedly.

“Duncan…you are under no obligation to me, but I beg you…take my wife and daughter to safety!” My father chimed in with a pleading offer.

“I will, your Lordship. But…I fear I must ask for something in return.” Said Duncan, earning a very confused look from myself

“Anything!” My father exclaimed.

“What is happening here pales in comparison to the evil now loose in this world. I came to your castle seeking a recruit. The darkspawn threat demands that I leave with one.” Duncan explained, making an offer of his own.

My father looked at me with concern plastered on his face. Then he looked back at Duncan and said.

“I…I understand.”

My mind was swimming, if Duncan needed a recruit _so_ badly that he needed to bargain with a dying man who has just lost everything around him in a single night. His friends, family, and ruling lands, why wouldn’t he go through the trouble of saving Ser Gilmore, along with us, seeing as that was his intended recruit anyway.

“What about Ser Gilmore?” I asked, frustrated that he would just abandon the memory of Ser Gilmore that way.

“Truthfully, you were always my first choice.” Duncan answered.

“I will take the Teyrna and your daughter to Ostagar to tell Fergus and the King what has happened here. Then, your she will join the Grey Wardens.” Duncan informed us of his future plans.

“So long as justice comes to Howe…I agree.” My father choked out.

  
Duncan then looked at me at my father’s agreement and offered.

“Then I offer you a place within the ranks of the Grey Wardens. Fight with us.”

I looked at my father and he nodded his head, in a comforting way, almost as if to say, that it will all be alright. That ever decision I make from here on, he would be with me. And with that encouragement, I gave Duncan my answer.

“I accept your offer then, Duncan.” I said turning my head to face him.

Duncan rose from his knelling position and commanded

“We must leave quickly, then.”

“Bryce, are you…sure?” My mother asked

“Our daughter will not die here tonight, not because of Howe’s treachery. She will live, and make her mark on the world. I have never been surer of anything in my life.” My father encouraged proudly.

I looked at my mother, who had her attention completely on my father. I could see something in her eyes, she was debating something. But somehow, I already knew what she was going to say. She was going to be loyal to the end, she would stand by her love to the very end. She looked up at me with watery eyes, and said.

“Darling, go with Duncan. You have a better chance to escape without me.”

“Eleanor…” My father attempted to plead with her.

“Hush, Bryce. I’ll kill every bastard that comes through that door to buy them time. But I won’t simply abandon you here.” She stated with certainty.

“I won’t let you sacrifice yourself mother!” I exclaimed, pleading with her one last time.

“My place is with your father. At his side, to death and beyond.” My mother said, making her final vows.

“Go. Warn your brother. And know that we love you both. You do us proud my daughter!” My father said in-between groans of pain, the life visibly fading from him now.  
  
I did not want to leave him, I clung on to him with everything that I had. There was a loud crash, and then I knew it was the gates. Howe’s men had finally broken though. Duncan forcefully pulled me away from my parents. This would likely be the very last time I would ever see them. In this larder, bloody and dying.

“They’ve broken through the gates. We must go, now!” Duncan exclaimed

“Goodbye my darling girl.” I heard my mother say as Duncan dragged me out of the larder.

What seemed like an eternity later, myself and Duncan made our way to his wagon that was parked outside of the castle. It was being guarded by a couple of guardsmen. Duncan snuck up behind them and assassinated them quickly. He did a quick audit on his things, seeing that it was still intact and there. I hopped into the back as he silently commanded, and called my hound up into the carriage as well. Then Duncan quietly commanded the horse at the form of the wagon to move turned the wagon around and we sped away as quickly as possible with me in the back.

Once we thought we were safe, he stopped the wagon, and informed me of his exact plans.

“We will be traveling south making our way to the ruin of Ostagar, on the edges of the Korcari Wilds. The Tevinter Imperium built Ostagar long ago to prevent the Wilders from invading the northern lowlands. It’s fitting that we will be making our stand there, even if we face a different foe within that forest.”  
  
I decided to take one last look at my home, and what was to be my legacy. It burned in bright flame, everything I had…gone, my home, my mother, and even my father. I could feel the warm tears streaming down my face now, unhindered, I had not the will nor the care to hold them back any longer. All that I could hope for now was that my brother survived. The worst part was…that I did not know why…why would—why would Arl Howe do this? After much inward delegation, I nodded in acknowledgement at Duncan’s information, not feeling up to doing any more than that.

Duncan turned his head to face around and in front of him and we made our way south. 


	4. Coalescence

**Present day…**

**Song Choice: It Was A Good Day – Ice Cube**

Daybreak came, and with it, my throbbing skull. It felt like I’d been an angry templar’s whacking post, and that sentiment wasn’t too far from the truth, either. I opened my eyes, slowly, so as to let my hungover eyes adjust to the soft glow of morning. I was greeted with just that, a soft pink hue painted the early-morning clouds. Above me sat a tree, and the songbirds chirped amongst its branches, signaling it was dawn. I could even hear the faint sound of crows cawing in the distance.

After just laying down for bit, waking up and taking in my surroundings, I decided it was time to get moving. I slowly got to my feet and put on my cloak, which I had been using as a pillow, whose ends were tattered and dirty with mud-stains on its black canvas. After stretching a bit, and loosening the muscles in my body that had become stiff from sleeping in such awkward positions, I rubbed my tender temples and slung my satchel over my side. Just then however, I heard a deep gurgle from the lower portion of my abdomen and was reminded that I hadn’t eaten anything of substance in nearly fifteen hours, now. I needed food, I needed energy, and soon.

With that, I embarked on my quest though the densely wooded Wilds until I came to its edge and caught sight of Lothering once again.

“Bloody Lothering. Don’t want to go back, but… the next town is twenty miles away.” I stated, talking to no one other than myself. “Here we go.” I huffed breathily to myself.

I slid down one of the large hills that surrounded the village, just adjacent to the Imperial Highway. And made my way into town with the hood on my cloak pulled up, and no one the wiser. After some diligent avoidance of the Templars, I made my way to the small market in the center of town. But… I noticed something was very wrong here, Lothering was actually populated for once. Although, these people—they looked… broken. And I soon learned they were refugees, but didn’t care too much to listen in any further, my stomach demanding that I fill it with something, and now. Before I approached the woman behind the merchant’s stall, I checked my coin purse, and it was but a measly two-or-so coins left in the barren pouch. I decided I would need to forgo drink for today, disappointingly. And at the behest of my gut, spend both on food.

“What will two silvers buy me?”

“Bit of dried lamb and a half-loaf of bread, if you want it.” The large woman said as she cleaned off her butcher’s knife. “Haven’t seen you before.”

“I’m just passing through.” I responded, lying. I’d been here for three days, though it was no wonder she hadn’t seen me before, I’d always come at twilight to avoid undue attention. However, my hunger made today an exception. I quickly scanned over the offerings and came to my decision, “I’ll take it, thanks.”

She grabbed the cured lamb chunk off of the meat hook that hung from the wooden roof of the stall and set it on the counter in front of her. She began delicately slicing the chop before laying the slice on the wooden counter as she put the chop back on the hook. Taking another knife, she pulled out a loaf of bread that, in any other circumstance but this one, I would sooner toss in the mud than eat it. She cut the loaf into two halves and handed me one. I gave a nod and a soft smile of thanks and flipped her both of the silvers I had left.

“You’ll want to pass through quicker.” The lady told me as she pocketed the change.

“Yeah, by the looks of it, I’d guess you’ve got some troubles here.” I replied, taking the slice of cured lamb and bread off of the merchant’s counter.

“Mhm. Refugees floodin’ in from all corners, now. I’m not sure, but word is: Ostagar has fallen. And if that’s true, then the darkspawn will surely be here within the week.” She added, giving me information that actually took me aback a bit. I didn’t know how to respond to that.

“Well… I’ll be off, then.” I said, walking away to go find somewhere more peaceful in town to eat my breakfast where every other person wasn’t mourning some dead loved one.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I sat near the exit of the Imperial Highway, just on the edge of the village limits. Having just finished my meat and bread, my stomach still wasn’t quite content, but it was all I could afford right now. I got up and began walking around the walls edges of the highway landed just in earshot of a curious interaction, though I couldn’t quite see what was going on.

“Forget it, I’m not paying you thugs anything.” I heard a woman say over the walls, and decided this could at the very least be something entertaining to listen to.

“Well, I can’t say I’m pleased to hear that. We have rules, you know.” A man with a grading voice countered.

“Right. We get to ransack your corpse, then. Those are the rules.” Another man added, this time with a much deeper voice, though it was a bit… tapped-sounding.

“I warned you, you can’t say I didn’t warn you.” The man with the grading voice stated.

At that, I felt a twinge of emotion in my chest, and promptly tried to shut it out. _No, keep walking, this is not your problem to contend with. Leave. It. Be.,_ I thought, trying to convince myself to move on. I huffed to myself, relenting. I took that time to walk up the stairs and onto the highway. And I caught sight of what seemed to be brigands harassing a party of three, and a dog. _Was this the hill I was going to die on?_ I thought to myself as the leading man on drew his sword quickly and raised it above his head, about to come down with a strike powerful enough to decapitate the blonde woman in front. _Guess so._ I concluded as I unhooked my whip from my belt and readied for a quick swing, it wouldn’t have enough time to be accurate, now. I’d just need to hope I hit him.

The whip impacted him with a loud pop that sent the mabari hound recoiling with fear, and his sword was knocked right out of his hand before he could complete the blow, clattering onto the ground. _I missed…_ I thought, as I saw his index finger was taken clean off, landing next to the sword’s hilt. He didn’t immediately react, and just stood there for a second or two before grabbing his injured hand that was sputtering blood everywhere.

The leading man dropped to his knees and panted and groaned in pain, lamenting his lost finger already. The other brigands were now fully aware of my presence as they all turned to face where the loud sound had originated.

“Oh, hell. I’m sorry.” I apologized, rubbing the back of my neck through my hood. “I was trying to snatch the sword out of your hand. How’s your finger?” I asked, pointing to my own, _intact_ pointer finger, just to add a little more salt in the wound.

“WHAT FUCKIN’ FINGER?!” He yelled, showing me his four-fingered hand, in an effort to—I don’t know—make me feel guilty, I guess?

“That’s no way for a respectable toll collector to talk.” I fired back, as the party of three in the back still hadn’t offered a word, still shocked by the turn of events. “There’s healers in the village, why don’t you go get that looked at?”

The men looked completely blindsided, other than the leader, none were able to muster up speech. “Kill the bastard!” The fingerless leader cried out at his three other goons who had yet to move against me.

“Look, if you leave now, we’ll say no more about this whole situation.” I offered graciously, trying to peacefully resolve this.

“KILL HIM NOW!!” He commanded loudly, once again.

“Last warning. This’ll get nasty…” I warned for a final time.

At that, one of the smaller, scrawnier bandits produced a peculiar blade from his jacket sleeve.

“Oh, now, that’s a funny thing for a toll collector to be carrying. That’s a thief’s knife.” I teased as I focused-in on the whip and changed it configuration. I drew from, the shadows around me and for a moment it was enveloped in a dark shroud. Afterwards, the whip had grown small metallic blades that protruded from its snake-like body.   
  


The gaunt bandit then jumped into a full sprint at me, horribly telegraphing his first move.

“Seriously? I’m out of practice, but I’m stone-cold sober.” I warned firmly as I gracefully dodged his stab attack. “Someone’s gonna get hurt.”

In an effort to catch me off guard, the bandit made his second attempt at a stab quickly in succession with his first. I once again dodged it, narrowly this time and wrapped the serrated body of the whip around his wrist and applied pressure. And by his pained yelp, it punctured him. _Oh, I’ve got an idea…_ I thought, inwardly chuckling to myself. If I was going to take part in this useless fight, I might as well have some fun with it.

Before throwing him off of me, I spun him ‘round a couple of times for double purpose. Firstly, to build up momentum to get him farther away from me. Secondly, I made sure that the whip made a small circle that sat on the ground, just below his left foot, a couple of spins and it would tie itself around his shin, all without him ever knowing. I speedily threw him off of me and back into his pack of vermin and let my back face him. The whip’s handle lay at rest at my side, that was until I hoisted it up in the air, above my head and slammed it back down again, causing he wrapped portion of the whip to drag the thief on his back.

  
Frustrated now, he charged without tact and a simple shift was all that was needed to dodge him. The second he stumbled in front of me, his shin bleeding, I knew it was time to end this little game. Gave a strong, complete rotation of my body to pick of momentum and the bladed whip cracked against his face, taking his eyeball out and splattering it on the nearby pillar. It stuck there for a moment before falling to the ground. Much like his leader, he dropped to his knees in pain, screaming out and covering his empty, bleeding eye socket.

With no one else willing to have their turn against me, I reconfigured the whip back to its normal state and looked at walked towards the dark-haired leader, still on his knees, gripping his hand.

“Pick him up. Take him to the Chantry, don’t bother these people again, and get of Lothering. Am I understood?” I commanded to him, standing victorious, and quite proud of myself in all truth. But I had to keep it serious—ahem, it’s serious time. The leading man nodded slowly to me as another one of his goons took the liberty hoisting the eyeless man onto his feet. “Good. Now get out of my sight.”

And with that, they rushed off, hurriedly.

“Now that was… truly awe-inspiring.” A male voice from behind me called out.

I turned to see the party I had just saved, and it was… not what I had expected. Honestly, I didn’t really investigate too hard on who they were and what they looked like, I just flew into action, but seeing them now… they were a different-looking bunch that was sure. It was two women and a single man. _Lucky him_ I thought. One was a blonde woman with blue deep blue eyes and a face whose structure screamed, ‘purebred’. The other man had spiked-up strawberry blonde hair, and a bit of untamed scruff around his chin. And with the last, she certainly had the most interesting look of the bunch. She was a svelte, elegant woman with hair darker than deepest shadow that was pulled up in a bun which she had placed ravens feathers, and she did not wear… much. Hanging from her shoulders was a purple shawl with and hood on the back, and had feathers randomly adorning her makeshift clothing. _Almost_ against my will, my eyes moved further down her body primarily…to visually search her for weapons. From the waist down, she wore a long leather skirt of sorts, with many studded straps hanging from the waistline. and looked as soft as silk. She had supple, coal-black, made up lips, and prominent breasts which she had no qualms about showing off. What struck me as odd was that, even though there was not a single ill-favored person among them, they all appeared dirty and disheveled, old blood stained the ornate blue and silver armor of the blonde ones. The dark-haired woman had let her boots be quite muddied and the dog had dirt covering him, and stray twigs hanging from his body.

“Yeah, like I said: I’m a little out of practice. They’re both still alive.” I said scratching my face as I said it.

“Serves them right, I say. Thank you” The blonde woman added, as I proceeded to turn my back to them and gaze off into the town of Lothering

“You’re welcome, my lady.” I said, trying to muster whatever decorum I had left in me.

“We don’t have much money on us to pay you, would you like something to eat? An apple, maybe?” The blonde warrior-man offered.

“You are offering the man who opted to save your life an _apple_ as compensation for his efforts? How entirely unexpected.” The dark temptress, jumped-in.

“I’d prefer something to drink.” I admitted, which elicited a spark of momentary happiness in the blonde warrior’s eyes at the thought of repaying what he, no doubt, considered a debt.

“You know what, I don’t know why I didn’t think of that earlier. Of course, you’d be thirsty after doing something like that. Alright, got some water right here—” He said, digging through a travel-sack with a wide smile.

My face shrunk into disappointment as I said, “Oh, the—never mind, then.” Waving my hand to dismiss his current action. “Maybe you could just tell me who you are and why you’re here.”

“Right, I guess you deserve that much.” The blonde, noble-looking woman conceded, “My name is Jade, Jade Cousland.” She said, pointing to herself. “This here is Alistair, in the back is my faithful war-dog, Gerard, and lastly, this is—”

“Morrigan, pleased to meet you.” She interrupted demanding she be the only one to introduce herself as she forced her way in-between the two taller warriors to face me directly.

“And you are?” Jade said inquiring upon my name.

“Adrian Amell.”

A small silence followed, and it fell upon me to continue the conversation. “…And as for why you’re here?”

Again, silence, but this time—I could see a sadness creep into their glassy, tired looking eyes.

“We’re Grey Wardens, and as far as we know, the last surviving members of the Order in Ferelden…” Alistair said, looking at his feet, a pained expression clear on his face.

“Ostagar has fallen…” Jade added, making the statement all the more grim.

“Ah, heard about that one in town earlier this morning. Seems there’s already talk about.” I informed, telling them what I’d heard from the butcher woman earlier. “And I wouldn’t head into Lothering, were I you.”

“And why, pray tell, would that be?” Morrigan asked with the slightest hint of passive-aggressiveness.

“Because, for some reason or another, the people are blaming the Grey Wardens for the defeat at Ostagar.” I informed, resulting in confused expressions from the lot. “And do you know what that means? Heads get put on spikes.”

“But—we’re innocent, Teyrn Loghain, it was he who—”

“Whether or not your innocent is irrelevant. All that matters is that whoever set this up was clever enough to sow discord beforehand.” I interrupted, cutting her sure-to-be long-winded explanation short. “So? What do you plan to do, given that, in all likelihood these people could tear your little band to pieces? Villages, torches, and pitchforks, that sort of thing.”

“Well, our primary objective is to use the ancient Grey Warden treaties to acquire aid from all sectors of Ferelden.” Alistair informed.

“You want to use treaties that could very well be expired to amass and army to…. what end?” I asked, still a bit in the dark about all of this.

“To slay the Archdemon, of course.” Jade commented, wholly overconfident.

“Because it’s just that easy, right?” I responded, turning my back to them. “Well—good luck to you, anyway.”

“And what are your plans, wanderer?” Morrigan inquired in mellow tone, calling my attention back.

I shrugged at this, “Find some more food, find some drink, get drunk, eat some food, move on.”

“That’s it?” I heard Jade ask, surprised as I had my back turned to them.

“Maybe find a tall tree, sit in it, watch the show before I move on, all the good little people dying horribly, all that.” I finished gruff and fatigued manner, as was my usual cadence.

“You don’t feel any concern for these people?” Alistair asked, and I could sense the hurt in his voice. To go from someone he idolized just moments ago, to someone he simply couldn’t bear to align himself with must’ve been hard, I grant him that.

“From what you’ve told me, this is what Teyrn Loghain wanted. Your people and mine were the only ones who could have fought the Archdemon and it’s army. But they didn’t want us. They wanted to fight the darkness on their own terms, good luck to them.”

Alistair seemed to understand, and could offer no retaliation. Morrigan oddly just seemed to have smug smile on her face, strange for such a dark conversation. But it was Jade that was the one to stand up to me.

“But the ordinary people of Ferelden, they didn’t get a choice.” She fired back at me, causing me to turn back to her.

“With all due respect, what would you know about the, 'ordinary people'? You’re a Cousland for Andraste’s sake, _you_ are the antithesis to 'ordinary people.'” I said, more hostile than I’d intended, but quickly retracted my tone. “Besides, for evil bastards to win power, all ordinary people have to do is stand aside and keep quiet. There’s always a choice.” I explained, shaking my head as I finished.

“Well… you find a good, tall tree, then.” Jade said, looking defeated. “And maybe you can even watch us die, too.” She said in a melodramatic manner, indicating that she and hers were opting to stay in this horrible little village. Which surprised me, to say the least.

“Don’t be crazy. Get out of Lothering while you still can. Go north, find a ship to the Marches—” I started to urge before being cut off by Alistair.

“--It’s her brother.”

“--Alistair!” Jade exclaimed, her true purpose for wanting to hang around this shitpile of a town, revealed.

“I don’t care! If you won’t stand up for yourself then I will… It’s Jade’s brother, Fergus, he came to Ostagar a few days before her and was dispatched with a squadron in this area. She’s lost both of her parents just weeks ago, and her father’s last wish was for her to find her brother, and tell him what’s happened.”

I crossed my arms, mirroring Morrigan’s position as she seemed to be having a jolly good time just feeding off of all this.

“So, you’re staying to die with the good people of Lothering, not just because you believe it’s the right thing to do, but because you want to find your lost brother.” I summarized, harshly.

“ _I_ certainly am not. If these two feel it’s somehow noble to sacrifice their lives for what amounts to a goose chase, then fine, so be it, but I will not be part of it.” Morrigan chimed in.

A silence followed, and I gave me time to contemplate. _Maker, I always get myself into these sorts of situations—and there’s never a happy ending to any of them._

“ _If_ I help you recover something of your brother’s, will you _please_ leave?” I offered foolishly, despite myself. “And when the darkspawn horde finally just _rip_ through this place, you’ll all be gone.”

“Why would you do that?” Morrigan asked, confused at my sudden change in character.

“Because they will come for you, you stay here too long. The good people. It’ll be a pogrom. The very second they find out who you _really_ are—well--if the soldiers don’t find you first… it’ll be a mob.”

“You seem to know a great deal about all of this, wanderer.” Morrigan said, still refusing to call me properly.

I turned around and finally lifted my hood that had shaded my face up until now, and pulled aside my cloak and long-coat underneath to reveal my mage sigil.

“I’m a mage, a runaway one to be exact, an apostate.”

All three of them seemed to be taken aback by the revelation. Even Morrigan, who, once she saw my face, had an expression of genuine surprise on her face.

“Aah, now that clears the air. But I don’t think you quite answered my question.”

I walked closer to her with an intense look in my eyes, “I know what it’s like to be persecuted by your own country for the accident of your birth.” She seemed to once again be surprised by my sudden rise in intensity, but that wasn’t all. And that’s when I noticed it… I wondered why she had a large stick strapped to her back. And that was because it was no stick at all, it was a staff. She was a born mage, too, then.

I looked over Morrigan’s shoulder and faced Jade directly. “So I will say once again: If I find something of your brother’s will you leave this village before nightfall?”

She seemed to be in deep contemplation for a moment, but relented with a reluctant ‘yes’.

All that I returned with was a strong nod of confirmation, and I meshed my fingers together and lifted them shoulder-height to pop my knuckles. I began to walk away from them and informed, “I’m leaving now. Don’t go on walkabouts looking for people to give support to, if you need to go anywhere, go to the tavern in town. And stay right there.” I finished sternly, as if I was disciplining children.

“Amell.” Jade called out one last time. “My father used to say something to me: It’s not dying that frightens a Cousland. It’s living without ever having done our best.”

I didn’t respond immediately, and just stood there, back turned, hood pulled up, again. And all I could offer at the time was a simple, “I don’t care.” In a low, almost weakened tone, as I walked away.


	5. Hunt

**Four hours later…**

**Song Choice: The Hunter’s Path – Marcin Przybylowicz**

_Hmm, tracks…Going north_ I noticed, sunken deep in the mudded ground. I followed on the side of them, careful not to ruin them. After about twenty minutes of mapping and following their beaten paths, I heard a snap of a limb in the shrubbery just adjacent to me. After a brief snap of my neck in its direction, I shrugged my shoulders, passing it off as a simple fox.

_Four, maybe five men._ I confirmed. Following until I found myself in a clearing. It was clear to me that people were here, and fairly recently. Tracks were placed all around, in all directions. Nearby trees had limbs had their limbs hacked off, and the naked wood still held the soft scent of the fresh innards. Rocks surrounded a shallow pit, one filled with ashes grey and black, _they’ve been cool for some time now,_ I thought, brushing my hand in the pile of the shallow hole, my hands being stained with grey-black wispy substance. I beat my hands against one another to be rid the excess and attempted to wipe off the stains on my leather long coat.  
  
Afterwards, I set myself back to my investigation, but I just couldn’t shake _those words. It’s not dying that frightens a Cousland. It’s living without ever having done our best. But how would she know the…? Never mind._ I said to myself, dispelling my thoughts in favor of my work here.

After a few more minutes of dancing around the tracks in an effort to find where they might’ve gone, I noticed a peculiar limb—coated in something… Upon my approach, I noticed it dripped with liquid, black as tar. Walked to it, grabbed the shrub and lifted the stem to my nose and sniffed the liquid. The stench of was that of acid and horseshit. _Peculiar,_ I thought, catching sight of another beaten path, on traveled by the men who stayed here. Crouching down, I saw that, unlike the tracks around the clearing, these were organized, not careless wandering. But by the scuffing in the dry areas of the path, they were hurried.

Before leaving I made a mental evaluation of the area. _The wandering tracks, combined with the stripped trees and the shallow pit… This was a camp. But these tracks… they are curious. These men, they were rushed, but remained organized enough to not scatter in the face of danger. Well trained, then._ I surmised, walking over to the liquid-covered bush. _Although this—this is unusual, it’s thick, but not tar, that was certain. Then… blood? But It’s cold, and aged—it should have dried by now. Something brushed by this, bleeding._ I observed, kneeling on a dry portion of ground next to the bushes, viewing the fled path. I noticed tracks made by unusual boots, they were jagged tracks imprinted in the mud. The edges looked too structured for soft leather boots; they were armored. _And by the looks of these tracks—the men were followed… But by what?_

I took on last look at the path and saw that it was covered in stray branches, thorns, and all manner of other graces of nature I could do without.

“Alright…” I huffed to myself as I began the jaunt through the muddy, cold and sharpened forest path.

\--ROTG—

After shaking myself clean of water droplets that had clung onto my cloak, I lifted my head to see a most grizzly sight. The smell wasn’t much better, either. Dried blood encased the blades of grass in large swathes, trailing from the grove and into the thicket. After approaching the epicenter of the attack, I was met with more blood, still fairly wet… in pools. _Someone’s died here…_ I thought, reasoning that no one could lose that much blood and still walk with a beating heart. It was moments like these that I was glad I traveled on an empty stomach.

There was so much scattered about, knives, swords, and even torn apart pieces of armor laid upon the clear ground of the grove. I kept my eyes to the ground, hoping I could find something small and cherished and end this, and quickly. I scanned around and picked up any little odds-and-ends that _looked_ as if they could be a soldier’s keepsakes, brought into battle, and sluffed off in the heat of the moment.

A few minutes later, I’d amassed quite a collection, an ornate utility knife, a surprisingly intact going-away letter, and a locket, that for some reason, I couldn’t open. _Hands must have gotten too cold—great._

My curation was interrupted by heavy crunch of leaves near me, just past the tree line. _If you attack me, now, I’m going to tie you upside down, coat your peck in honey, and feed you to starving bears. At least have the decency to attack me after stuffed the useless baubles in my pack._ I thought to myself, as I hurriedly shoved trinket, after trinket in my satchel, waiting for the inevitable.

I heard what sounded like a mix between a man gurgling on his own blood and the growl of a three-days peckish wolf come from just past the trees. I readied my body and mind for the encounter, but I’m not sure any man would be completely ready for what came charging out of the brush. There, standing before me, was the incarnation of what can only be described as a nightmare walking. It retained so resemblance of humanity, it had eyes and… eyes. It was however noticeably covered in some form of rusted and tarnished armor with chainmail and iron being easily identifiable on its decrepit-looking body. I charged me with a rabid spark in its eyes as if it _needed_ my death, more than anything.

Given time to prepare beforehand, I drew from the shadows around me and formed my blade from them. The creature swung erratically, and without pause, as if it did not tire. After dodging a couple of it’s slices, I met it with my own blade slamming against his own chipped and rusted one. _Damn, he’s a strong bastard, though,_ I thought as I pushed against his blade with my own.

It didn’t make sense to me, its body looked, frail and diseased. Its nose barely hanging on and it didn’t have lips. Whatever strength endowed this monster, I couldn’t locate it. But I needed to end this fight, and quickly, otherwise this could get ugly for me. I allowed it to push me backward to give me some room to make my move. I charged once again as I’d expected, leaving me a perfect opening once I’d learned his movements. It screamed its horrible call at me once more as it charged.

“Right, enough of that.” I said calmly, regaining my confidence and shaking my nervousness. As I did so, I went for an under-over flourish, cutting the evil creature from abdomen to clavicle and clean through.

For a few moments just after the altercation stopped, I shamelessly gloated at its dead body as I let the battle-high course through my veins. Spitting on its dead body I got down to investigate what, exactly, I’d just fought. That was, until I heard another rustle of the bushes, coming from the same direction as that last monstrosity waltzed out of.

“Okay--Alright! The last one had the benefit of catching me in a decent-enough mood, and right now? I’m not in the mood for foreplay.” I finished gruffly.

As if on command, _two_ more of those things poured out of the brush, looking all-too-similar to the last. They forked towards my sides I an effort to flank me. Without delay, they both charged me hastily, causing me to dodge the narrowly.

“Alright, boys, one at a time, remember?” I said cheekily, and was satisfied if that was to be my last words, inwardly smiling at myself for it.

The one to my right charged me again, although before he could reach me, a fireball came crashing into its face, leaving it with a concave, cauterized skull. It didn’t immediately fall over but just stood still, before stumbling towards me, still wheezing out its cries, until it crashed face-first into the mud. Another fireball followed quickly, also from behind me and in succession from the last. It collided with the other creature’s breastplate, sending it flying back in the direction from where it had emerged. Not even looking behind to see if the caster in question was friend or foe, I took my chance to finish the job. I ran up to the creature, who was crawling towards it’s fallen sword.

“Well… Sorry but, you don’t wait your turn, you get tossed out the tavern.” I said before I drove my sword through the back of its neck and left it there. I breathed heavily for a couple of moments, not quite sure I wanted to even turn around, in the event that it was yet another damn issue for me to take care of.

“Didn’t know you were back in Lothering!” I deep, smooth male voice exclaimed loudly with joy bleeding though his attempt to be menacing.

I recognized it, but decided to keep the joke running.

“How did you find me, cousin?” I said turning around and taking my hood off to greet him properly.

“You know that you can call me by my name, correct? Or has all that drink washed away that memory of yours?” He said, approaching me with a soft grin and opening his arms for an embrace. He came up and threw his arms around me and squeezed. I didn’t reciprocate. He’d always been a little too touchy-feely, at least as long as I’ve known him, which hasn’t been long, admittedly. “And I spotted that cloak of yours trailing outside of the market this morning, and again sometime later when I was organizing provisions for the journey ahead. Thought I might come and greet you” He said, now answering my original question. He separated from me soon after, seemingly having his fill. “Besides the same can be said for you, Adrian. I thought you were off to Honnleath.”

“I was, and made it there, too…” I trailed off stretching the back of my neck, awkwardly.

“And…?” He inquired, picking up on my hesitance.

“Well—I got kicked out of the tavern for fucking the late owner’s widow, though, I’ll swear until my dying day I had no idea. I’m deplorable, but not enough to plow a dead man’s woman in full conscience. All that, only for someone there to tip the damn Templars that I was an apostate” I said as we both chuckled a bit at the series of unfortunate past events. “Needless to say, I outrun them for a day or two. Leading me right back here.”

“So, _are_ you going to leave? Can’t imagine you’ll be staying long.” He said, with a slight blink of sadness in his eyes.

“I was going to today.” I replied quickly.

“But?” He asked, hope replacing the previous sadness.

“But—well, it’s complicated, but it’s the reason I’m trudging my good boots around in this filth.” I said, looking down at the creature below me.

He flung his head back as if he found something hilarious about what I’d just said. I just tried to overlook it and turned my head away and towards the trees, only because he had a way of doing this every now and again, and I found it quite annoying. “It’s a woman, then!” he exclaimed, making zero sense to me.

“What?” I said turning my head back to him sharply, only in sheer astonishment.

“It involves a woman.” He repeated, speaking slower and clearer, thinking I hadn’t heard him the first time. “Don’t worry.” He said, waving his hands in front of himself in dismissal. “I don’t need to know the minutiae of it. Just understand that I know there’s a woman involved. No man does these sorts of things, otherwise.”

“Well—you’d be right—” I started as he gave a suggestive smirk. “But not in the way you’d think.” I stopped him, firmly, no hint of heat in my face, and he seemed to accept that answer. “I was approached by a party of three on the Imperial Highway, earlier—four if you include the dog.” I joked, earning a small, one-note chuckle from him. “The woman who led them was determined to find her lost brother, or at least some keepsake of his, and intended to look for him, themselves.”

“--And so you elected to help them. But that doesn’t quite seem like you to help some random passersby like that. What possessed you to do so?” He asked, fully aware of my personality and nature.

“I’ve been asking myself the very same question for the past two hours, myself.” I admitted truthfully, “ I don’t know? They looked like decent-enough people, If a little odd and dirty.”

A silence followed, neither of us quite knowing where to take the conversation.

“Got a mind for food? Mother’s cooking all the all meats we can’t bring with us, it’s to be a feast.” He invited me, successfully restarting the conversation.

“Sure, I’ve got a mind for it. But if I’m gonna get another three-hour lecture about my behavior then I’ll just go kill a rabbit or something.” I replied, causing him to laugh loudly.

After he recovered, he spoke again, “Nonsense! I can see your looking a bit light on the bones, there, even through that coat of yours. I’d do you good before you go off. Besides, if you fear so much for your manhood, I’ll protect you from her, but I’m sure she’ll be glad of the surprise.”

“Fine then, I’ll go.” I said, fatigued, and no longer going to argue against food.

“Don’t get too excited, cousin, you might pull a muscle.” He jested at my expense, laughing as he did.

“Fuck you.” I responded, only causing him to laugh ever harder. I walked a bit more up the path back to Lothering, sure I’d gotten all I came for, but I noticed that he wasn’t following. Too busy laughing to move I would seem…

“It really wasn’t that funny, Garrett.” I told him.

“So you do remember my name!” He said sobering sharply as he came walking over.

\--ROTG--

“Leandra Amell, in the flesh.” I said, loud enough so she could hear over the sound of her own toiling in the kitchen. For a second, I thought she didn’t hear me, the loud dishes clanking against one another masking my sound. But she was just thinking of a suitable response.

“That’s Leandra _Hawke_ to you, boy.” She huffed out, frustratedly.

Leandra was a good woman who I’d only known for a few months, now, despite being her family. I made a point to track her down once I’d escaped and gotten the necessities, food, some new clothing, …beer. Once I arrived, claiming I was an indeed an Amell, she didn’t shut me out like I expected she would, but took me in for a few nights, claiming she knew we were family. At the time, I didn’t know how she divined that as unimpeachable truth. For all she knew, I could have lied through my teeth, but she stayed stout in her conviction, and I had a feeling it was the way I looked. Since then, she hasn’t been able to do away with the notion that I look _exactly_ like my great-uncle, and patriarch of the Amell family, Aristide Amell.

“You do that just to confound her, don’t you?” A young, dark haired woman approached us at the door saying.

“Bethany, look who’s here!” Garrett championed, introducing me to the household.

“Mhm. I can see him quite well with my own two eyes.” She said, dismissively.

“What’s got you so uptight? Rat crawl in your undergarments? Wouldn’t put it past this little town.” I asked, shamelessly trying to pry.

“No! Just tired. I’ve been trying to heal three people in the back all day, slowly. Water helps, but it’s still tiring.” She revealed.

“People? What people?” I inquired, giving a look of confusion.

I saw Garrett to my side scratch the beard on his face as he seemed to be preparing himself to tell me what’s the matter in this house.

“Yeah… Carver and two others.”

“Carver? What happened to him? And who are the others? Or do you even know?” I asked, my head being throttled with questions.

“Carver was at Ostagar, as were the other two, we know that much.” Bethany informed.

_Shit,_ I thought. Carver was military minded for as long as I’d interacted with him, but I didn’t think that he’d go and do something like join the King’s army, though I should have guessed.

“He’s lucky to have made it out alive.” I replied, trying to give some reassurance that at least luck hadn’t left the Hawke family.

“That he is…” Garrett trailed off gesturing for me to sit down on their couch.

I walked over and sat down, Garett mirroring me. We spoke for quite some time on a variety of topics while we waited for the food to finish.

\--ROTG--

We sat lively around the table, all except for Bethany, who had tired herself to a dangerous degree trying to heal three people into a stable condition within the span of one day. Garrett and I traded jokes back and forth, and he seemed to be genuinely happy with my being here. Leandra would poke in on our conversation every now and again if she heard something too off-color at her table. And I damned-sure listened, too, lest it turn into another hours-long lecture about why no woman wanted to stay around me for more than a day or something.

“Have I ever told you that you look like my father, Adrian?” Leandra interjected after myself and Garrett had just finished recovering from some hearty laughter.

_Here we go._ I thought to myself, rationalizing that it was merely a matter of time.

“—My father, Lord Aristide Amell. You learned of him in the Circle, I hope?” She asked, subtly insulting my intelligence.

“Look, I know I’m a tired-sounding drunk of a man, I realize that, but I at least remember _some_ of my education.” I defended.

“Nonetheless, my father greyed at a young age, just as you have. But ever since I was a little girl, he _despised_ it. So much so, that he would hire two men to come to the estate once-a-week and put black-tar paint in his hair.” She said snickering at the memory before continuing, “My brother, Gamlen, and I would sit at the supper table and would just--laugh at how unnatural it looked.” She had to pause a moment before continuing on, because her voice had become unstable from poorly contained laughter. “Father would always leave the table with the most disappointed pout on his face. I guess being laughed out of the dining all by his own children wasn’t a pleasing thing to hear when you were trying _avoid_ embarrassment.”

Just then, we heard some grunts come from the back room and I heard Bethany who had been mostly silent up until now mutter to herself, “No,” As she sprang up from the table a hurried into the back, myself and Garrett following suit.

Once we’d all arrived in the back, pushing past the thin curtains that separated this room from the main one, I felt the warmth of three bodies all stuffed in such a small room together. The air was heavy, warm, and moist in that little room where young Carver and the two other escapees rested. Carver, however, was still sound asleep, but his breathing seemed to be stable, as did the other man. But the woman lying on the cot immediately before Bethany, the one whom she was trying to convince to lay back down, was heaving, and by the sound of her mutterings, she believed she was still in the battle. Most of her words were, unclear at best, and plain gibberish at worst.

“T-T-the, K-King…” I heard clearly, as Bethany still tried to console her, every word an exhausting feat, that, to her, was comparable to scaling a mountainside.

“What’s your name?” Bethany asked, making sure to whisper.

“A-Aveline Vallen-n. W-Where’s my husband?” She asked, starting to become frantic.

“Is that him right here?” Garret said quietly, pointing to the cot at the furthest end of the little room as Aveline slowly turned her head to look. Seemingly satisfied she released her tension.

“What of the king?” I asked softly, so as to not wake the others.

“H-he’s d-d-dead. The k-king is d-dead.” She stuttered out, falling right back into unconsciousness soon after.

Myself, Bethany, and Garrett all walked out of that humid little chamber, we were at a loss for words, even me. I’d expected it to be a defeat, not a wholesale slaughter. But an even more concerning thought emerged in my mind, and Garrett seemed to notice my quiet panic.

“What? What’s wrong?” He asked, his voice clearly concerned.

“Nothing you could help with. But I think it’s time for me to leave. Thank you for the food, Leandra.” I thanked as she seemed to smile at me.

“Anything for family.” She responded, with more heart and soul invested than I’d anticipated. She truly believed that.

“Adrian, don’t do that, tell me what’s going on.” He implored.

I turned around to him trying to at least distract him long enough for me to leave, so I could take care of this myself.

“Garrett, I appreciate the concern. I do. But I this is something I need to take care of myself.” I said, trying to muster whatever soul I had left to say it as caring as I could, but stern enough for him to listen.

He looked disappointed, but nodded his head in understanding. To cure this, I decided that it would be smart to hug them, out of my own free will, mind you, since it could very well be the last time, we see each other, and they’ve admittedly been better to me than they had to be. I embraced the disappointed-looking man in front of me, and he didn’t seem to know how to react at first, not expecting such a gesture from me. But he returned the embrace.

“Right then, I guess your off to take care of your business?” Garrett asked, as I nodded silently on his shoulder, still firmly locked-in.

  
After breaking from his hold, I went over and hugged the other two women in the house as they both gave me comforting smiles as I left.

“Where are you off to?” Bethany asked as I opened the door to the house, back turned to her.

“To find some beer.” I replied, lying.

\--ROTG--

**Song Choice: Fate Calls – Mikolai Stroinski**

After some time, taking care not to run into any Templars, I made my way on the path to the Dane’s Refuge, only to spot the strange party walking away from the tavern and into the village outskirts, towards the farmlands. I speeded my walking to catch up to them.

“Ehem.” I said, clearing my throat loudly from behind them.

I noticed that they now had two more odd souls traveling in their band. One that looked vaguely familiar, and another that I’d never seen before, but she was dressed in a sister’s garb, so—no wonder.

“Ah, there you are! We were just… wandering around to find you!” Alistair said, trying to defend them, and hopelessly failing.

“Funny.” I said flatly. “You were going the wrong way for that.”

“We weren’t sure if you’d be coming back—" Jade spoke up.

“—So you went to search my corpse, face-down in the mud, yes, yes I know this sad story. Didn’t I tell you to stay in the tavern, explicitly?” I asked _really_ hoping I’d at least get an entertaining answer so I wouldn’t have to murder these poor people.

“About that… We got thrown out.” Alistair responded in Jade’s place.

At that, I looked at the sun and calculated what time of day it was.

“Still, no one’s beat my record…” I muttered quietly to myself. _An hour and a quarter-past, going strong._ I thought to myself, inwardly congratulating that I’d maintained my record time to be kicked out of a bar in the presence of them.

“What?” Jade asked.

“Nothing. Here.” I deflected, tossing the small bag of items I’d scrounged up to the Cousland girl. “Some things I tracked down, see if there’s anything amongst those that belonged to your brother.”

“’Belonged’? The red-headed priestess said, calling my attention to her.

I observed her, covered in the usual robes the Chantry distributed to its loyal servants. She looked—dissimilar to most other women of the cloth that I’d met in past. Though…? I just couldn’t put a name to what I found so different about her. Perhaps it was the fact that she was walking around near farm fields? Or maybe that she was even in the presence of these odd folk.

“Yes, ‘belonged’, the scene I found… it wasn’t pretty. And no bodies to speak of.” I repeated, elaborating on what I’d seen in that grove.

“Darkspawn don’t take prisoners…” Alistair said, reminiscing on something, and visually losing hope.

“—Or wash themselves.” I added, earning looks of distaste from everyone in the group except Morrigan and the silent Qunari in the back, who I had just noticed.

I lifted my hand and pointed to the tall, dark-grey skinned man. “Have you always been there?”

“Did you think I had just arrived? Surely even a human as inept as you would be able to perceive _that._ ” The qunari man fired back, causing Morrigan to almost lose her composure.

Before I could respond, Jade’s solemn eyes perked up at the sight of the locket. “This! This was his! It was given to him by… Howe… when he was smaller. He kept it around him for years.”

I held my arms out in an “I told you so” manner and smugly said,

“Alright, I want to see everyone’s apology letters written within the next hour, and I want yours first, big guy.” I said sarcastically pointing at the Qunari man, who didn’t care to respond to that.

“Did you find anything else?” Jade asked excitedly.

“Only some angry darkspawn, hellbent on tearing me a new one.” I replied truthfully, there was simply nothing else left, not even bodies. She looked somber, again, at that, but it was the truth, and going back wouldn’t yield any more than before. “By the way, you failed to inform me that the king was felled at Ostagar. That would have been useful information, don’t you think?

“Right… sorry.” Alistair said, starching at his forearm, not really having a solid excuse.

“How did you get kicked out of the tavern?” I asked, shifting the subject, seeing that, even if I’d pried, I wouldn’t have gotten much more information out than what I’d already gotten.

“We were caught off guard, Loghain had posted men here in the town, and they were having a drink when we sauntered right in.” Alistair informed, almost embarrassed to continue further.

“And?”

  
“There were four, now there’s one. And he’s running to deliver a message to Loghain.” Jade replied, a spark of darkness in her eyes.

“They won’t be the last…” I warned forebodingly.

“We know, and I think we’re prepared.” The red-head priestess interjected.

“You won’t be…” I said, letting too much of my worry show, and then there was a pause…. A long one, and I was at that very moment that I knew, something big was about to be dropped on my head.

“Which is why we could use your help.” Jade making her offer known.

“Pardon?” I asked, half wanting her to at least explain exactly what that entailed, and half thinking I’d not heard her right the first time.

“Join us. Under Grey Warden protection, you will be granted amnesty and protection from the Chantry, as an apostate. At least as long as the Blight rages.”

I turned my back to the party. It was not a decision to be taken lightly, I knew this, but what better option did I have? I was filled now, but how long would that last? A few hours more? My purses were empty and with the Blight, no one would be offering work that I could do. Leandra and her family will be leaving by tomorrow’s nightfall, so that wouldn’t be an option, either.

“And if I accept? What then? What are your plans?” I asked, back still turned.

“The treaties, we intend to use them, but first, we make our way to Redcliffe, and find aid there from Arl Eamon… hopefully.” Alistair informed once again, confirming they had a more-or-less complete plan.

_It’s a golden opportunity, and you’d be a fool to decline it_. _Even if you have to force yourself to get along with this lot. Besides, beer without the arse-kicking and multi-day cat-and-mouse with Templars in the woods_ _would be nice_ …

“Okay… fine… I accept…” I said, in low tone and tiredly, still somewhat unsure, and unknowingly, in far over my head…

**Act I Ending Song Choice: Renegade - Styx**


	6. Author's Note #1

Alright! Act 1 down, act 2 here we come! I wanted to take this time to thank everyone who's tuned in to see and suffered through the story's inception, and offer a gracious, 'thank you', personally from me to all those who have shown interest and support, it means a lot and keeps me writing strong.

As for the story itself, as some may have noticed, it is pretty heavily cannon-divergent, and will keep this trend alive through the duration if possible, all the while, making sure the classic story is told in depth. But I didn't just want to write another Dragon Age story that sticks to the formula that was set by Gaider and compony, as insanely talented as they all are. I wanted to revise a character that I thought could use it, giving him less of a goody-two-shoes attitude towards the Circle, and something more akin to Anders (more on the relationship between these two coming later, as there is some history there). Adrian being a warden was yet another thing I didn't want to _start out with,_ I wanted to tell a story that didn't immediately have him tied to a ticking time bomb of destiny, but that may be… subject to change in future chapters. A human story is what I want to tell first, and foremost, everything else is secondary, even the flashy new shadow powers, which will be explained in great detail, soon. Adrian doesn't know much about much, but he damn-sure knows about three things, food, drink, and shadows.

 **Lastly, I believe it would only be appropriate to include what I call, Character Reference Visuals, a reference for the audience to see what the classic characters, along with Adrian and Jade themselves, will look and will be referenced as throughout the story. In that vain, they will be posted on Imgur so, if you'd like, just go to the site itself and search up: Shadowbound - A Dragon Age fanfic Character References.** Once again, I thank you so very much for any support shown, and don't forget to leave a comment or review!

**Character Reference Visuals Gallery:**

https://imgur.com/gallery/RVtK0pg


	7. Party Camp (Part I)

**Act II: Less Afraid of the Dark**

**Song Choice: Another One Bites The Dust - Queen**

Ahead of the group stood half-a-dozen hurlocks with a pair of genlocks. They were well grouped, although what could best be called their leader was charging at a pair of dwarves cowering next to their spilled wares that had tumbled out of the overturned wagon. Morrigan snapped off a blast of frost that disabled the archers, ice crystals crackling and shimmering as they spread across darkspawn flesh. Alistair slid into the space next to Adrian, as he continued to throw his manifested throwing knives, offering what assistance he could. Alistair, beckoning the hurlock alpha’s attention to himself, and away from Adrian whistled at it and took his sword to his own shield, making a deep ringing that pierces through the sound of battle. The creature turned its attention and roared a challenge swinging a rusted, chipped sword, the blow glancing off Alistair’s shield as he stepped forward.

Meanwhile, Leliana had eliminated both archers, arrows to the neck and head disabling them quite handily. Much to the confusion of Adrian’s peripheral vision, wondering how a woman could shoot that well in robes like that. Just then, a giant spider leapt onto one of the hurlocks, ripping out its throat with its fangs, leaving a black geyser of blood in it’s horrible wake and tackling another. Tearing his vision away from the terrible spider, Adrian conjured a unique dagger from the shadows around him. He closed his eyes and focused, preforming a simple movement, dagger in hand. Soon, the dagger lit aflame in scarlet flames that engulfed the blade. He brought the dagger down on it, the creature squealing out as its ribcage was penetrated. If that wasn’t enough, the flames seemed to spread from the dagger, and unnaturally fast, it consumed the shrieking creature within seconds, like a spreading cancer. Soon though, the genlock’s cries subsided, and its body left as nothing more than ash. Leliana still had an arrow notched, ready to silence the creature under Adrian, but now she possessed a look that resembled something halfway between amazement and horror after what she had just seen. The spider halted, before bursting into mauve smoke and flowing back into the group knew as Morrigan.

The other three rounded on the alpha, leaving Adrian to get back to his feet. Finding Alistair and Jade trading blows with the darkspawn, neither side able to find an opening in the other’s guard. “Got a clear shot, Priestess?” Adrian asked as he brushed the chalky dust off his black leather long-coat, strangely comfortable in the heat of the moment, far removed from the emotional state of Leliana, who was rusty and unpracticed. Adrian glanced at Morrigan, who seemed no worse for wear despite the magic she had just performed, making a mental note to ask about _it_ later.

Leliana nocked an arrow, drawing the bowstring, and assessing what would be the safest option “Alistair, jump back whenever you can!” Alistair leapt backwards, ducking a wide swing from the alpha, as it was intercepted by Jade’s shield as Leliana let the arrow fly, the barbed head spearing through the alpha’s neck and splattering tainted blood across the highway… and Jade’s regal face. The hurlock dropped like a bag of wet soil, being punctuated by a tongue click from Adrian.

“Nice shot,” Adrian said, unenthused as he patted Leliana on her robed shoulder walked away to join Jade in checking the bodies over. He grunted in disappointment after only finding a handful of coppers from their pockets, still stuffing the measly sum into his pouch. Spotting the flash of color from that was certainly not from any farmer’s garb amongst the bodies, Adrian tugged a dead genlock off the corpse, finding a dead woman underneath, her throat torn out, the veins having discharged all they were capable. Patting down the woman’s pockets, Adrian found a sealed letter and an empty vial that smelled faintly of lyrium, that he promptly tossed over his shoulder, resulting in the glittery sound of shattering thin glass. Shrugging and breaking the seal on the letter, Adrian read in whispered tone to himself, “I won’t go back. Let them hunt, and dread finding me. But you, Melis, should not live this life. It would please me if you found a life in the Circle Tower. I left a few things there, mostly stolen from the enchanters. Sell them to fund a new path. The cache is in the study area, middle alcove. Goodbye. Bel Gruce.” Adrian looked up from the note. “Another bugger bites the dust, then.” Bending down, he tugged up one sleeve, hissing out a breath as he saw a line of thin cuts. “Shit.”

“Blood magic?” Alistair asked, having overheard Adrian’s murmuring as he stood just adjacent.

“There were rumors she’d been dabbling, sure, but that’s anyone who has the faintest fancy for escape.” Adrian replied, standing up. “Most of the mages didn’t believe it until she vanished. They figured she’d just been… regulated.”

“People can disappear that easily?” Leliana asked.

“At the Circle? Sure. No such thing as accountability, there. One doesn’t question the Templars on any of their blatantly bollocks decisions without running the risk of vanishing themselves” Adrian scowled a moment, before shaking the grim thoughts from himself. “It doesn’t matter. I’m out, long gone, and Maker willing, I won’t be going back. Ever.” He turned around, spotting the two dwarves poking through the wreckage of their wagons, and Jade approaching them.

“You all right there?” Jade asked.

The older dwarf turned, nodding gratefully. “Mighty timely arrival there, my friend. I’m much obliged.” Jade smiled, and the dwarf went on. “The name’s Bodahn Feddic, merchant and entrepreneur. This here is my son, Sandal. Say hello, my boy.”

“Hello,” the younger dwarf said dully.

“Road’s mighty dangerous these days. Mind if I ask what brings you out here? Perhaps we’re going the same way.”

“It’s a bit… complicated,” Jade said delicately. “But you’re welcome to come along.”

“Complicated?” Bodahn laughed. “Somehow, I imagine that only says half of it. Thank you for the offer, but there may be more excitement on your path than is good for my boy and me. Allow me to bid you farewell and good fortune.”

“Goodbye.” Sandal waved.

“Now then, let’s get this mess cleaned up, shall we?”

“Let’s find a place away from the city to make camp,” Alistair suggested. “It’ll be getting dark soon.” Finishing, he began walking away, with Jade quickly jogging to catch up to him. Adrian, Morrigan, Sten and Gerard following suit, Leliana though, was still a bit taken with the sight of the dead darkspawn, the first she’d seen.

“You coming, priestess?” Adrian asked, turning back upon noticing Leliana’s absence.

She didn’t respond speedily, instead keeping silent while she had her back turned away from the group. “Chantry lore says it was man’s pride that created the darkspawn—”

On hearing the word, ‘Chantry’ he knew this was going to be a conversation not tailored to his liking, not to mention long-winded, and so he decided to cut it off, quickly.

“Yeah, yeah. Come on. Time to go. As riveting as your story sounds, Priestess, we haven’t the time and I’m getting thirsty—for water—unfortunately.” Adrian responded with a dulled look in his eyes.

She thought for a moment, giving her consciousness time to relent. “Very well. And—for your information, I’m _not_ a priestess, I’m a lay-sister.” She explained.

“Same thing—” Adrian started, before being interrupted by Leliana.

“—And my name isn’t 'Priestess', either, it’s Leliana, pleased to--” She said, kindly, inwardly feeling a little bad for interrupting him, but she needed to get a point across.

“--I don’t care…” Adrian stated, fatigued and low, turning his back to Leliana, having run out of patience.

A scowl appeared on her face at his abrasive rudeness as she made her decision to separate from the darkspawn corpses and catch up with Adrian and the rest.

\--ROTG—

 **Song Choice: Eredin, King of the Hunt -** **Marcin Przybylowicz**

_One has felt the darkest, deadest, depths of the world. One has seen the army he commands, it’s vastness overshadows even the great blue oceans, it’s blackness threatening to swallow the world. He is to them what a beacon is to a moth. He is their light, gazing from above, leading them to their ultimate purpose, their inevitable goal. His draconic form beating his wings and gaping his toothy maw, roaring, to command them, and they are to do nothing but listen… everbound. But deep inside, lies hatred, hatred of himself, a hatred one has felt in his fleeting presence. At last, he calls out to one, a call of rage untamed, a harbinger of the end times, but a call of despair and anguish, intertwined. But this one thinks, no, **knows** it has seen this before, it recognizes this call, a call to one who has the power to change him, or release him from this torment. Then, it all vanished, and this one was left return to realm of sorrow._

\--ROTG--

**Song Choice: The Party Camp – Inon Zur, EA Games Soundtrack**

Jade rolled over and sat up, mopping her forehead with her sleeve and brushing her disheveled, muggy, hair back out of her eyes.

“Bad dreams, huh?”

Jade looked over to see Alistair sitting next to the cooking pot, watching him, and taking note that he seemed to be the only one present at the fire. “It seemed so real.”

“Well, it is real, sort of. You see, part of being a Grey Warden is being able to hear the darkspawn. That’s what your dream was. Hearing them. The archdemon, it…talks to the horde, and we feel it just as they do. That’s why we know this is really a Blight.”

 _If only everyone could feel this… maybe then the people wouldn’t be so easily manipulated by Loghain._ She thought gazing into the fire. _But people don’t know what they don’t know._

“The archdemon? Is that the dragon?” Jade asked just trying to… acclimate, grab ahold of what she didn’t already know—which was more things than she’d like to admit.

“I don’t know if it’s really a dragon, but it sure looks like one. But yes, that’s the archdemon.” He responded taking his eyes away from the cooking pot and facing towards Jade. “It takes a bit, but eventually you can block the dreams out. Some of the older Grey Wardens say they can understand the archdemon a bit, but I sure can’t.” Alistair said, pausing for a moment. “Anyhow, when I heard you thrashing around, I thought I should tell you. It was scary at first for me, too.”

“Any other surprises I should know about?” Jade inquired, sarcastically, trying to alleviate the heaviness that had grown in the air.

“Other than dying young and the whole defeat-the-Blight-alone thing? No, I’m all tapped out for surprises.” Alistair finished, letting silence fill a gap between the two.

“Alistair, do you mind if I ask you a question?” Jade questioned.

“Um, sure, go ahead.” Alistair responded, a questioning scrunch on his face.

“This Arl Eamon, you said he raised you, is that true?” Jade asked fairly awkward, not sure how Alistair would react to something of a personal nature. After all, they had amassed quite the eclectic group of individuals, all wildly different from one another. There was really no way to tell how was prickly and who wasn’t, but she had been shown kindness and comfort by Alistair, and was fairly certain he wouldn’t be the type to act out from that line of questioning.

He didn’t blow up in a violent burst of anger, so much as he did become jittery and his eyes unstable, darting from place to place. “Did I say that? I mean that dogs raised me. Giant, slobbering dogs from the Anderfels. A whole pack of them, in fact.” Alistair deflected humorously.

“That would explain the smell, then.” Jade said with a coy smile, deciding to play along.

“Well, it wasn’t until I was eight that I discovered you didn’t have to lick yourself clean. Old habits die hard, you know.” Alistair joked, finishing his joke with a gesture of his arms aimed at Jade in an effort to involve her in his fabricated story.

“You know? That would explain the breath as well.” Jade replied, now having trouble holding in the laughter.

“And my table manners, too. Though, come to think of it, they weren’t all that different from the other templars.” He said, somehow keeping his composure all throughout the long-winded joke. “Or did I dream all that? Funny the dreams you’ll have when you sleep on the cold, hard ground, isn’t it? As I’m sure you’d agree.”

“Outside of the dreams of darkspawn doom and the foul recurrence of Ostagar in my mind, well… there is one other.” Jade trailed off, trying hard to hold back the rising heat in her face.

“And what would that be?” Alistair asked, with no hint of a suggestive tone, the darkness acing as an effective shroud for Jade’s blushed cheekbones.

“The ones where we’re making mad love in a tent.” Jade jested, taking a page out of Morrigan’s book, and throwing Alistair so far off his previous thoughts he just stayed frozen a bit, bringing a concerned expression to Jade’s face.

“I… oh. I think I… completely lost my chain of thought… oh, there it is.” He finally responded, not making much mention of the previous statement. “Let’s see. How do I explain this? I’m a bastard. And before you make any smart comments…” He said, shooting an obviously sarcastic glare at a completely oblivious Adrian who had his back turned to the campfire. “I mean the fatherless kind. My mother was a serving girl in Redcliffe Castle who died when I was very young. Arl Eamon wasn’t my father, but he took my in anyhow and put a roof over my head. He was good to me, and he didn’t have to be. I respect the man and I don’t blame him anymore for sending me off to the Chantry once I was old enough.”

“He wasn’t your father? So you know who is?” Jade asked, genuinely curious and engaged in Alistair’s story.

“I know who I was told was my father. He died even before my mother did, anyhow. It isn’t important.” He finished; his eyes reluctant to face her. “Arl Eamon eventually married a young woman from Orlais, which caused all sorts of problems between him and the king because it was so soon after the war. But he loved her.” He paused, it becoming noticeably harder for him to continue, though Jade was sure that if asked, he would deny it, and so he pressed on. “Anyhow, the new arlessa resented the rumors which pegged me as his bastard. They weren’t true, but of course they existed. The arl didn’t care, but she did. So off I was packed to the nearest monastery at age then. Just as well. The arlessa made sure the castle wasn’t a home to me by that point. She despised me.”

Jade didn’t really know how to respond, but her mind went to comforting first, just as her mother would after a sorry day.

“What an awful thing to do to a child.” She supported in a somber tone.

“Maybe. She felt threatened by my presence, I can see that now. I can’t say I blame her. She wondering if the rumors were true herself, I bet.” Alistair said maturely, able to empathize with someone Jade was sure _had_ to be one of his greatest villains. But he didn’t continue further, not speedily, not after a hard swallow. “I remember I had an amulet with Andraste’s holy symbol on it. The only thing I had of my mother’s. I was so furious at being sent away I tore it off and threw it at the wall and it shattered. Stupid, stupid thing to do. The arl came by the monastery a few times to see how I was, but I was stubborn. I hated it there and blamed him for everything… And eventually he just stopped coming.” Alistair finished, pain clear in his voice and eyes, now.

“You were young—I’ve done dull-headed things when I was younger—we all have… I think?” Jade said, trying to be supportive, but there was just no pretty ending to what Alistair had told her. From what she had heard, Arl Eamon was wrong to send him away like that… but Alistair’s anger and stubbornness, despite Eamon’s willingness to be in his life was a bit unwarranted in her mind.

“And raised by dogs. Or I may as well have been, the way I acted, heh. But maybe all young bastards act like that, I don’t know.” Alistair once again dodged with his quirky humor. “All I know is that the arl is a good man, and well-loved by the people. He also was King Cailan’s uncle, so he has a personal motivation to see Loghain pay for what he did.” Another pause, this time in search of a conclusion. “Anyway… that’s really all there is to the story.”

\--ROTG--

**Earlier that night…**

_Ballocks…_ Adrian thought as his question about whether the two newest additions to the crew, Bodahn and Sandal had any beer they wouldn’t mind going missing. The answer: they had none at all, not one jug. And with that, Adrian concluded that they had to be the worst peddling group he’d ever come across.

Walking back to the tent he slaved away on for far longer than an educated student of the Circle should have, he harshly bumped into someone while his head was turned toward the ground.

“Hey--! Oh, it’s just you, didn’t see you, there.” Adrian started, only to calm himself quickly.

“Well, here I am.” The woman known only as Leliana to Adrian said with a pleasing toothy smile, something he had to admit that he wasn’t used to getting from anything other than drunk women. If only because of his usual coldness “Anything you’d like to talk about?” She asked, noticing that Adrian had not simply moved on his way yet.

“Hmm…. Let me think…. No.” He replied coldly, walking away.

“Nothing?” She said as she following behind him, showing that she was more determined to get a line out of him than she’d let on.

As an interesting thought did penetrate his mind, Adrian stopped in his tracks suddenly, leaving Leliana to almost stumble over him.

“Actually, love, I do.” He said, addressing Leliana by turning around to her. “What was someone like you doing in the Chantry of a town that very likely gets its ‘clean’ drinking water downstream from a sewage discharge?”

She made a disgusted face at the thought, “What is meant by, ‘someone like me’?” She asked, obviously playing innocent.

“The way you fight—it’s not—how should I say? Holy. After all, aren’t your kind supposed to discourage the art of war?” Adrian said, firing his not-so-subtle shot at her.

“Did you think I was always a cloistered sister? The Chantry provides succor and safe harbor for all those who seek it. I chose to stay and become affirmed.”

“ _That’s rich_ …” Adrian mumbled to himself as he turned his head, very much meaning for Leliana to hear.

“What was that?” She said, falling right into his verbal trap.

“Nothing.” He deflected breathily, beginning to tire of this conversation’s currently boring pathway. “To be fair, you gave me no reason to question you, not until you pulled out a bow and started firing.” Adrian finished.

“Well, as for my being in Lothering, I desired time apart from the world. I was a traveling minstrel, in Orlias. Tales and songs were my life. I preformed and they rewarded me with applause and coin.”

“I picked up on the Orlais bit already—your accent. Though, that doesn’t really answer my query, does it? How’d you learn to fight like that?” Adrian pried, vaguely curious of this woman, now.

“How did I learn to fight? Well, you pick up different skills when you travel, yes? Yes, of course. Er… let’s move on.” Leliana answered, becoming fidgety, as she began fiddling with the buckles on her new armor.

Adrian nodded, slowly, so slow that Leliana thought he was going to collapse from weariness right in front of her eyes. At that, he decided it was time to make way to his tent, if he could find his way there, and no saunter off into the forest, as tired as he was.

Leliana though satisfied that she had been able to conversate with the man, she did find herself feeling a bit disappointed that she couldn’t get any more out of him. At least he would be coming back, it was just a matter of time now…

“Oh, and Priestess. I couldn’t care less why you’re _really_ here, but please…. Don’t lie to me, again, love… I’m trying to trust you lot, anyway.” He finished ominously, with his back turned to her, now deciding to start on his path away, leaving Leliana to think, blood drained from her face.

\--ROTG—

**Song Choice: Secunda – Jeremy Soule**

Upon walking towards his tent, stumbling more like—it had been long time since he stumbled out of tiredness and not one-to-many tankards of drink, _at least the walking was easier this way,_ Adrian thought to himself. As he finally came upon the cloth-topped triangular shaped shelter, he saw a figure sitting silently next to the left side of it, shadow hiding its face, and soon sound emerged from that direction.

“Adrian Amell. The intruder. The nameless invader.” The voice said, it’s face still unrecognizable, but the voice— _that_ he could recognize in a crowded Nevarran bazaar, like velvet on skin.

“This was _my_ tent, last I checked. Don’t know if that’s changed, though—have you decided to bunk with me?” Adrian teased slowly, his voice becoming more and more raspy the less he used it, and the drained he became.

The figure arose to meet him and his weariful gaze. And before it opened its mouth again, Adrian could make out the gender by the curved silhouette, outlined in the natural light of the night, _moon-trimmed. “_ You, Adrian Amell, set forth into _my_ Wilds some days ago, yes?” The woman said, approaching closer to him, slowly. “Don’t try to deny it, I know you were there—I saw you.”

“ _Your_ Wilds, well that’s rude. I’m sure the toads and other resident parasites would like to have a say in that.” Adrian deflected, not addressing the issue as she continued to walk towards him. The contrast between the night’s pale gaze and the voided darkness behind still not letting him see the full person in front of him. But she soon came into full view… Morrigan, the most enigmatic of the little collection they had made for themselves. She was… Elegant, brutally efficient, moral as a tornado and about as safe. Beautiful, yes. The way a blade can be if its kept safely behind glass.

“They do. I am merely their speaking tongue. ‘Tis their condition that we cannot understand them, and so I must speak for them.” She said, crossing her arms, waiting for a response.

“Mhm. Can we debate philosophy another time? Preferably when I’m not sober? Thanks.” Adrian grunted out, trying to end the conversation quickly in an effort to crash onto his bedroll and not onto the cold, muddy ground beneath him.

Morrigan now showing the first signs of urgency he’d heard since meeting her, spoke again. “I have a question—for you, in fact.”

“Getting to the point? How unexpected.” Adrian fired at her, masking his surprise.

“…How—how do you do--what it is you do?” She asked awkwardly, not for lack of confidence, merely for a lack of understanding, something Flemeth would have never allowed.

“You mean my magic, then, right?” Adrian said, deciding to give the poor girl a chance, if only because his eyes couldn’t seem to separate themselves from her night-stricken outline. “Well, that conversation’s… far longer than I care to speak for right now, but high-and-low of it is: I can control shadows, you know, those little dark reflections of self that follow you everywhere? That is my skill—and my craft, savvy? Pausing for a moment, he saw Morrigan’s face squeeze in silent questioning, surely wondering how one would even begin to master that talent. “But I could ask you the same question though, couldn’t I?”

“If you have need to ask me of my talents, then do so, don’t cower behind vague statements.” Morrigan responded, more hostility than Adrian cared for, but decided that she was just the prickly sort, and that it would take a bit more energy to interact with this manner of woman. But he was curious in the way she said it, it was almost as a mother would… sternly advise a child.

“Alright, that’s how you want it? Fine. I want you to tell me what shit-fuck-crazy magic you’ve got that allows you to become—whatever I saw on the Highway, earlier.” Adrian said, taking Morrigan’s advice and asking directly.

“I presume you mean my ability to shift? Very well, you have told me what I wished to know, and I will endeavor to be civil and do the same.” She responded, about as nice as Adrian had ever heard her be, in tone, at least. “ ‘Tis a skill of Flemeth’s—”

“Flemeth? The Witch of the Wilds? You train under her or something? I didn’t think she accepted pupils—” Adrian interrupted, becoming for more interested in the conversation, now. He’d read a few of the stories involving Flemeth and always saw her as an extremely interesting figure.

“I am her offspring, her daughter.” Morrigan interjected, rivaling her origin to him.

He didn’t really know how to respond to that, just staying silent for a bit, letting the words sink into his mind. And only new questions filled his brain.

“Didn’t even think someone like you would have a mother.” Adrian joked, the only thing he knew to do when the conversation became too difficult for him to respond to, quickly.

“Of course, I have a mother. Did you think I spawned from a log?” Morrigan questioned.

“Something like that.” Adrian responded with the most shit-eating grin he could muster. “So, you are the daughter of Flemeth, a murderous, filicidal witch who has somehow survived many centuries longer than she should have, by way of shit-fuck-crazy magic, no doubt. I can see that the apple hasn’t fallen far, she must be proud.” Adrian insulted, laughing to himself. Morrigan scowled at him, trapped, and wanting to defend herself, but in doing so, would have to defend her mother, and that was almost worse. “There are stories about you, you know? Lots of them. Do you drag children off and eat their hearts out?”

She chuckled at that, _also_ the first time he’d heard her do anything that resembled laughter. And he found that he liked it… “A most amusing legend.”

“If she’s trained you, then… I’d guess she’s been doing… _that_ for some time, now.” Adrian said, also not quite sure how to describe the foreign power.

“Changing her form, certainly. Devouring lost children, I cannot say. She has not done it in my experience, though in truth my lifespan is but a fraction of her own.” She said, narrowing her eyes at the prospect of more questioning from him. “Why do you ask? Is there something more you wish to know?”

“Do you spend much time in an animal’s skin?” Adrian inquired, now not near as sleepy as he was before, thoroughly entertained by the conversation. In fact, the most entertained he’d been conversing while sober… quite some time.

“There were nights when the Wilds called to me, ‘tis true. You look upon the world around you and think you know it well. I have smelled it as a wolf, listened as a cat, prowled shadows that you never dreamed existed.” Morrigan said, reminiscing dreamily. “But my life is as a human. I am under no illusions to the contrary.”

“No shadows have been prowled from which I wasn’t present.” Adrian countered cryptically. “But that’s neither here, nor there, so—the next logical question has got to be: Can you change into the form of a human, if you wanted.”

“No. The form of an animal is different from my own. One may study the creature, learn to move as it does, think as it does. In time, this allows one to become as it is. I gain nothing by studying another human, so my human form is the only one I possess.” Morrigan explained, making sure he had a full picture of her power.

“True, that would make some sense, actually… But what do the other animals think of you? When you’re changed, of course.” Adrian continued, now sitting down to rest his sore heels.

“I can say that they do not shy away from me.” She answered once again. “To their senses, I believe I seem like any other of their species. As to what they think, I truly cannot say. Just as I am human, no matter my form, they are still animals. Thus, they cannot speak, even were I to ask.”

“Ah, ah, you’ve gone and contradicted yourself, love. You said that you speak for the animals, how can one do that if they cannot even speak _to_ them.” Adrian said, bringing up a valid point.

Morrigan grew frustrated at his impertinence, and responded, “I did not say I _spoke_ to them, I said I _speak_ for them. Even if I could not speak to them, knowing my powers, would you not say I would be the _fittest_ to do so?”

Adrian contemplated the question for a moment, “You know? You make some level of sense, sometimes. But don’t go getting a big head about it—I’m afraid it would burst, otherwise.” He jested, clearing his throat to get back on course. “I can’t say that I have heard much about it, only referenced in the old wisdom, and even the information in the Circle library was scarce.”

“Such magic ‘tis not unheard of, in the remote corners of the world. Some of these traditions are old, indeed, passed down as carefully-guarded secrets. The zealots of the Chantry would uproot all such practitioners if they could, but as luck would have it, some still exist. My mother such a one.”

Adrian seemed to be deep in thought, truly listening to her and making sure that his responses could hold water. “Oral histories, then. Hard to train, but it keeps the Chantry from completely eliminating it, so that’s something. They despise practices like that because as long as there is no written record, no tomes, there can be no true erasure—and that drives them mad.” He said, more voicing his inner thoughts than conversing, really. “Good on you, I say. S’long as the Chantry gets buggered at the end of the day, I’m as happy as a pig in clover.”

When Adrian truly exited the confines of his own mind and looked back towards Morrigan, she seemed be taken aback by something. “I’m shocked that you think so, being a mage of the Circle as you were—”

“-- _The_ _Circle.”_ Adrian scoffed. “An old tower full of mages who’d be happy to do nothing more than prattle on about useless theories for just long enough to keep them from going mad. All the while being perfectly content to be asphyxiated by the Chantry’s iron grip, constantly squeezing harder, and harder with every passing moment. So no, I’m no Circle mage, not anymore.”

  
Morrigan was _almost_ at a loss for words, his intensity had nearly paralyzed her speech, but she would continue. “I thought as much, you did not strike me as a— _normal_ mage. It seems we are of similar minds, you and I.” She paused as Adrian offered a nod of agreement. “So, have you an opinion on my abilities, then? Am I an unnatural abomination to be put to the torch?”

_Not with a pair like that. No, no, I wouldn’t dream of it_. Adrian thought to himself, getting far too close to actually voicing that thought. A few more drinks and that might have been a reality.

“I’d settle for being tied to a flagpole and tickled until submission.” Adrian said, settling for a less abrasive option.

“I wouldn’t advise it.” She warned darkly. “But enough of such talk, I’ve had my fill for tonight and so have you. Let us disperse, lest the dust gather on us.”

\--ROTG--

**Present time…**

Jade walked by, leaving Alistair to break his side of the camp down. As she passed, she overheard a peculiar conversation between two of the other members, one she identified as Leliana and Adrian.

“I know you have it.” He said, almost as if he was extorting her for something.

“Have what?” She asked innocently.

“My coin purse, I need it.” Adrian said, flatly, and too groggy to be in the mood for games.

“Whatever for?” She responded, not letting her façade up just yet.

“Drink—not sure I could live without it, and you wouldn’t want me dying, would you?” Adrian jested, targeting her moral high ground.

Leliana nodded at that and pulled the small leather sack from her own travel bag. “Very perceptive, how did you find out?”

“Well, quite simple really, I know I had it before talking to you, only because I was willing to _pay_ Bodahn for beer, and ‘misplaced’ it sometime after.” He responded catching the tossed sack in his hands and tying it to his belt.

“Mhm. Snagged it when I bumped into you.” She said with a sly, closed-mouth grin.

He chuckled at that and pointed at her. “You’re quite the minx, Priestess. Yet another trait to add to the list of many other things that don’t add-up about you…”

At that, Jade decided to leave them to it. We had work to do, and Redcliffe awaited…

**Chapter End Song Choice: Bad Company 2015 Remaster – Bad Company**


	8. Woeful Bane

**Four days later…**

Jade’s head was beginning to hurt now… She liked to talk as much as the next girl, but the compony seemed to be particularly chatty today, going on, and on about far too many topics for her to keep up with. In fact, at her mother’s salons, she was always one of the most social members in all the years she attended, even as a child. Only being outclassed by the likes of Fergus. He was the fire that kept a gathering from dying off, when it otherwise would have pitifully sputtered out long before. He was perfectly content if he got to socialize and eat good, hearty meals, and he seemed like he could strike up a conversation with just about anyone, from Alienage elves, to arls, he was a master. And while he didn’t have a ‘silver tongue’, the likes of which an Antivan counterfeit salesman would possess, but he was always charming… and kind, giving his guests the biggest smiles and laughs one could ever hope to muster.

As she began to block out the sounds of traded information around her, diving deeper into her own head, Jade pulled out a small, golden locket, and admired it. It had been a long time since she’d seen this trinket, Fergus was very particular about it, always keeping it in his pockets or in his bags, never keeping it around his neck. Jade never asked him why… just assumed he was either crazy or stupid, like any proper sibling would. But now… she wished she could ask such a simple thing as that… she would give anything…

Shaken from her thoughts, Jade found herself in the back of Bodahn’s wagon with Leliana, the two opting to ride while Sten, Adrian, Morrigan and Gerard all choose to walk.

“--Favorite color?” Said Leliana, her voice just now making its way back into Jade’s consciousness.

Caught off-guard, Jade struggled to find a response quick enough to not come off as awkward, but not too quick as to seem inattentive. “Oh—um… Blue, I’d say.”

“Then you must enjoy that armor.” She said with a smile, pointing at Jade’s dark blue gambeson that Jade kept on when she stood away her breastplate. “It suits you.” She complimented.

“Thank you.” Jade finished. Letting the conversation die down.

While the past five days have moved quickly, the desire to socialize amidst the chaos was still strong. To some, it came easier than others. Adrian was hard to socialize _with_ though he had insisted that he was far better a butterfly a few cups in, Sten, in a similar way. Leliana and Alistair were quite talkative, and when they were inevitably batted away by Morrigan’s icy stares or Sten’s general

“Go away, human.” Sten responded in his usual flat tempo, Jade now turning her attention to the conversation.

“It’s a simple question. Besides, if I’m working with you, basic information might be useful. So, I’ll ask again, why come to Ferelden, of all places?” Adrian responded once more repeating his question to which Jade was currently eavesdropping on.

Sten sighed and answered, “To answer a question.”

“Well—that’s cryptic.”

“The arishok asked, ‘what is the Blight?’ by his curiosity, I am now here.”

Adrian furrowed his brow, confused. “Wouldn’t you need to report back, then?”

“Yes.” Sten replied with a stone-cold wall of a face.

Adrian didn’t quite know how to respond, just stared at Sten as they continued walking, not having near enough information to build the proper response. “Well, get on it, mate.”

“I cannot go home.” Sten said to Adrian’s surprise, going out of his way to continue responding.

“Then I guess you can stay with us, at least until you feel the need to leave.” Adrian said, giving his best shot at comfort, earning a soft smile from Leliana behind him, in the wagon. “As long as you bugger off all that ‘atonement’ bullshit.”

Sten decided not to respond to that, just nodding curtly, silently sending Adrian on his way.

\--ROTG—

“—And you are quite certain this is the right place?” Morrigan asked Alistair, with a look that expressed no faith whatsoever.

“Morrigan, I think I would be able to tell my hometown.” Alistair retorted.

“Of course, Alistair, you are a shining example of intelligence. My mistake.” Morrigan said, her voice dripping with sarcasm, and trailing off.

“He’s right, this is the place.” Adrian said, surprisingly taking up for Alistair.

Since Adrian had discovered Alistair had a history with the Templars in the past. He had given Alistair a cold-shouldered attitude, more so avoiding him than anything else. Though, Alistair on personality alone wasn’t _too_ annoying to Adrian’s sensibilities.

Alistair gave him a look that resembled surprise, it had been two days since he had said a word to him. But didn’t offer anything more than that, instead, having his train of thought redirected to something far grimmer.

Sniffing the air, Alistair’s face scrunched as he was trying to ascertain the origin of the off scent. “That smell… A body…”

“Think you’re in the wrong line of work? I can’t really think of many people who would opt for a profession that would train oneself to detect a dead body without even seeing the damn thing.” Adrian asked Alistair, offering a glanced side-grin.

He shrugged. “It’s our lifestyle, now. When you’re not dying, that is.”

“Can’t agree there, complaining is _my_ lifestyle—keeps me sane—along with beer, that is.” Adrian responded, walking with the rest to investigate what it was Alistair had smelled.

“If there’s dead bodies around, then Redcliffe could be worse-off than we had first thought.” Jade remarked, strapping on her breastplate and getting out of the back of the wagon, Leliana following close behind.

Alistair stopped in his tracks, as if hitting a wall no one else could see, or was affected by. He turned quickly, almost on his heel, and gave a fearful look to a newly equipped Jade. Jade froze, not quite sure what Alistair was looking at her like that for. He quickly put his hand up waved it in the direction of the path, giving the rest lease to move forward. The rest looked at Alistair and Jade with quizzical eyes for a few moments, before simply accepting it and moving on.

“Can we talk for a moment? I need to tell you something I, ah, should probably have told you earlier.” Alistair said, approaching Jade with an uneven walking speed, slow, and suddenly quick, again.

“If this is about that missing block of cheese, we got from Lothering last week,” Jade replied easily, “we figured that out fairly easily.”

Alistair winced. “No, I wish it was, though.”

One look at Alistair’s nervous-puppy eyes and Jade could see that this was no longer the time for jokes, so she relented and decided it would be best to dispense with them. “Alright, then. What’s on your mind?”

Alistair gave her an uneasy look. “I told you before Arl Eamon raised me, right? That my mother was a serving girl at the castle and he took me in?” Jade nodded, taking in his words clearly. “The reason he did that was because...well, because my father was King Maric. Which made Cailan my half-brother, I suppose.”

Jade just blinked, not sure how one would even respond to that at all, let alone politely. All the lessons from her mother, on the proper decorum of a teyrna had completely gone to waste in this moment, blindsided by her own comrade’s unwillingness to speak the truth.

“You’re _Maric’s_ child?!” She yelled, barely above a whisper in volume, so that the others wouldn’t yet catch wind. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

Alistair backed up a bit at Jade’s sudden outburst of shock. “How? _When_ would I say it? ‘Oh, by the way, King Maric had sex with a servant girl and she produced a bastard son. That’s me.” He defended, not knowing any other way to handle this. “I would have told you, but… it never really meant anything to me. I was inconvenient, a possible threat to Cailan’s rule, and so they kept me a secret. I’ve never talked about it to anyone. Everyone who knew either resented me for it, or they coddled me. Even _Duncan_ kept me out of the fight because of it. I didn’t want you to know, as long as possible. I’m sorry.” Alistair finished, airing his shameful head to his toes.

Jade didn’t have anything to respond with once again, just… letting the implications of such a thing sink into her mind. Until she came upon a revelation. “Wait. So when Cailan sent you and I to light the signal fire in the Tower of Ishal…”

“He was doing what he thought best to keep us alive, yes.” Alistair said, his eyes still directed downward.

“You should have told me. I can’t believe you _didn’t tell me this_ ,” Jade said firmly, pacing back and forth, the thoughts and revelations coming almost simultaneously, now.

“Look, I said I’m sorry! I know I should have said something. This...it’s never brought me anything but problems. I wish it weren’t even true.”

Jade stopped pacing, knowing now was a time to be strong, like she always saw her father do, in her own time of need.

“Alright… Alright, let’s just—think of a plan, here…”

\--ROTG—

**Two hours after arrival in Redcliffe…**

“The man’s daft! Look, Loghain hasn’t a clue if you’d vie for the throne or not, and I don’t think he’d care just _too_ much if you died in a ditch somewhere, even knowing.” Adrian said incredulously. “ _Maker-be-damned,_ how is it that I know more about basic political motivations than the bastard son of a dead king?! You know what? That calls for one, I’d say.” Adrian finished, pulling out a flask from his inner coat pocket, unscrewed the cap and took a forceful swig. He stayed silent after, making his way to a chair in the town’s bar, where the others had chosen to follow Adrian and base themselves.

Alistair seemed hopeless, but it was necessary, he _needed_ to let this be aired out to everyone. Jade believed this to be the right way. She couldn’t very well know everything, and the more people that knew the full extent of our situation, the more people that could help plan around it… properly. She knew she was putting Alistair through the ringer—but it had to be done, and for now he’d just have to grin-and-bear-it.

“So—this is why Logahin tried to have you either captured or killed?” Leliana asked Alistair.

“Not just—he also wants to have the Grey Wardens become non-existent in Ferelden… to save his own skin.” Jade answered for him.

“Indeed, exposing his actions to the world would be problematic for him…” Leliana ruminated.

“The senior Warden is the illegitimate child of your previous ruler? Would he not have claim to be your leader, by right of blood?” Sten questioned to no one in particular.

“I don’t want to be king! I never wanted that!” Alistair exclaimed, no longer able to take the questioning. His eyes appeared sharp, as if he was ready for combat, or nearing the point of tears, most likely both.

“Alistair.” Jade said slowly, so as to not infuriate him more. “We know that—But with Loghain, being the commoner that he is, now as acting regent, the nobility will see you as their final hope for one of noble blood to sit on the throne.” Jade reasoned, calling upon her many years of family experience in matters of the throne.

Alistair just shook his head. “If there’s an heir to be found, it’s Arl Eamon—”

“Except the man you speak of is horribly ill, how can you expect a man in such an impaired state to amass an army for you?” Sten interrupted, something that was usually out of character for him.

Alistair narrowed his eyes at him, almost looking hostile. “You think he’s going to die before we can help him?”

Before Sten could answer, Adrian took the reins, once again, still sitting in one of the booths. “Most probably. But we can’t that chance, can we?” He said putting his flask back into his pocket. “If we neglect help from the Arl, there’s absolutely no way we would have the political power to oust Loghain, even if we were to get the other parties to agree.”

“In other words, we need help these people to get Arl Eamon’s assistance.” Jade summarized, earning a silent nod in confirmation from Adrian. “…Then we can help drive back whatever undead threat Teagan spoke of.”

“There are no darkspawn here, and too little to gain. It is a fool’s errand.” Sten protested, to the surprise of Jade, Alistair and Leliana.

“And what would you have us do?” Jade asked in return.

“Leave.” Sten replied with as much personality as a rock.

“Leave? And what about our plan for Arl Eamon’s help?” Alistair countered, not quite sure if Sten had just not been listening or if it was something else.

“The plan was never to come and defend this village.” Sten said flatly, his voice not rising, even though he was now knee-deep in an argument.

“Sten—please… If there’s a chance to rescue the arl, we must try.” Jade pleaded with him, seeing Alistair’s mood begin to shift back into infuriation.

“Yet helping these humans does nothing of the sort.” Sten replied, not responding to her plea.

“I’m not going to simply abandon these people to their fate, Sten. Forget it.” Jade said, now having a mind to stand her ground against him.

“You’d save this village while countless others fall to the darkspawn? So be it.” Sten relented, quieting himself for the duration of the processions of complaints to come.

After a few moments of general silence, Morrigan finished reweaving her staff back together, after Gerard stole it, thinking it was nothing more than a large stick. It went missing for about a day and was found snapped in half. She rose from her seat in the booth where she recently sat opposite Adrian, leaving her repaired staff lying on the table.

“How pointless, to help these villagers fight an impossible battle, one would think we had enough to contend with elsewhere.” Morrigan entered into the discussion, saying her peace. “Do you think it wise to mire us in this pitiful mess?”

Jade, readying to respond to her, was interrupted by Adrian, but let it pass, simply because if he was in favor of staying, that he was be a more suitable candidate to convince her away from her current path.

“This isn’t my cup of gin, either. But we have a thing to do now—so… let’s do it. There’s no way we get to Loghain without someone like Eamon.”

She sat silent, looking intently at Adrian, a silent battle of wills. It lasted for a good half-minute, before Morrigan broke. She huffed and went to go sit back down I the booth.

“Okay, everyone. Gather.” Jade ordered, trying as best she could to sound stern. “That means you as well, Morrigan.” She said as Morrigan, visually reluctant, strapped her staff to her back and walked up into the circle that was being formed by the rest. “So? Are we all in agreement to stay and help the people of Redcliffe?”

“After which, we find your arl and get the assistance we require?” Sten inquired.

“Yes.” Jade responded, with a curt nod. Earning the same from Sten. Though he still disagreed wholeheartedly with the method, he could at least respect the Warden for her stalwart nature.

All of the members had soon gathered into a tidy circle, where they would properly discuss their future motives.

“Look at us, a bunch of happy dipshits all standing in a bar. We’re all standing, now. All jackasses, standing in a circle, the lot.” Adrian quipped; his arms open wide.

After a long laugh from everyone, Morrigan and Sten notwithstanding, though Morrigan was closest to cracking a toothy smile, Jade was finally ready to inform her of her plans.

“Right, then. This is the plan…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter this time, I know, but expect another chapter a bit sooner if I can help it! And thank you to anyone who has commented, kudo'ed, or reviewed my work! Keep it up!


	9. In Anticipation

Why are we here?” Sten inquired, his flat tone becoming more natural to Adrian with every word that came from his mouth.

“I already told you. Jade spoke to Murdock, and _he_ said we need to find a dwarf named, Dwyn, and convince him to join the linesmen tonight.” Adrian informed.

“That still doesn’t explain why we need a cowardly dwarf to join our cause. We would do best to leave him in there. A coward like that would likely serve only to burden us.” Sten replied coldly.

“That may be, but Murdock seems think that he’ll be of _some_ use. And, honestly, I’d much rather convince a cowardly deserter dwarf than walk back into that Chantry, again.” Adrian joked, earning silence from Sten and a scowl from Leliana. “What?” He asked at sight of her scrunched brows.

“You realize I was a lay sister, yes?” replied Leliana, arms crossed, patiently waiting for a response from Adrian, preferably one that doubled as an apology.

“C’mon, Priestess! Have a laugh!” Adrian said, trying to deflect his previous sideways comment. Leliana was not amused. “Alright, look, you’re the _least_ preachy of all the Chantry folk I’ve met. That _must_ count for something.” Adrian sighed-out, offering a weak compliment, but Leliana settled, knowing that was all she was likely to get out of him.

Approaching the home, Adrian took toward the center of the three, taking the initiative.

“Hello?” Adrian asked loudly, to no response.

He stepped back from the door and gave a long sigh, rolling his eyes. “Useless twat…” He mumbled to himself, knocking on the door harshly this time. “Anyone home?!”

Again, no recognition came to his cries, and Adrian did not seem pleased at this. In a final attempt to make contact with the deserter dwarf, he formulated a new, but far riskier plan.

He rolled up his sleeves and took a good few second’s look around him, making sure no one was in eyesight, should they find his next act objectionable. After checking all around him for any curious observers, and making count of none, he gave one last warning to whomever was holed up inside. “I’m coming in! Best stand back, wouldn’t want you to catch a doorhandle to the mouth!”

He summoned a small knife into his right hand, one that Leliana instantly recognized. It was a black blade that had a most intriguing hole where the blade’s temper was thickest. It was by design, no doubt, but it was not like any other blade she had seen before. Just above its hole, a small purple gem lied inlaid, and shone brightly when it was summoned into his hand. Leliana did not know what power Adrian possessed, never hearing of magics like his, she surmised it must have been exceedingly rare, maybe even among the mages. After he had summoned the blade, he waved his hand in front of it, during this, Leliana could pick up the faintest sound of whispering coming from him. He was reciting something. After he finished, the small blade lit into a dazzling blaze, the color of which was a deep red, not like any natural fire. Curiously, he did not stab the door with the flaming dagger, instead he simply touched the slightly rusted lock the dwarf had put onto his door with it. And, as if knowing the two others behind him were likely to be abound with questions, he caught them preemptively.

“The dagger, it has an innate ability to create this—fire you see here. The flames that emanate from it can burn any _one_ thing it touches, completely, and will not stop until said thing is turned to a sad pile of ash. Afterwards, though, it is no more useful than any other kitchen knife.” Adrian explained, to Leliana’s amazement.

She had always been interested in magic, though she did not have the inborn gift to wield such power. It could do so many wonderous things… and equally terrible things. It was a tool, and in the hands of the wrong person, any tool can be used for malice.  
  
Leliana watched on as the red fire that once burned on the blade, seemed to pour onto the small lock, engulfing it entirely, much in the same way it did the genlock on the Imperial Highway some days ago.

“You can create weapons with magic? Is it infinite, or is there a limit to your power?” Sten asked curiously, but surely not in the way one could tell his curiosity, his voice giving no tell.

“There is.--A limit, I should say. I can only create weapons from shadow that I have acquired in the real world. It takes many hours of uninterrupted meditation to understand the _meaning_ and _use_ of the weapon, so that it may give me the knowledge of its previous user. Not to mention, a certain level of mental focus is required to even hold the damn thing.” Adrian said, still keeping the dark dagger touching the lock, crimson flames still burning bright, nearly melting the metal.

“Weapons do not have knowledge, there are merely tools. Lifeless” Sten countered.

The lock’s metallic form began to liquify, white hot liquid-metal beginning to drip onto the wooden porch. “And that, my giant grey friend, is where you are wrong.” Adrian said, turning his head back to Sten for the first time since he began melting the lock. “Objects, of any and all kinds, are imbued with the memories of their masters. Although, very few objects ever have their memories… Now how did he put it? Ah, yes, _recorded._ ” Adrian said, finishing his explanation, and turned his head back to the lock. A sly grin appeared on his face soon after. “Seems were in…” He trailed off menacingly as he observed that the lock had completely melted, and the flames now gone. He threw the dagger onto the ground and while Sten and Leliana both waited for it to clatter onto the wood… it never did. Only leaving as much sound as a lone leaf would on a windy autumn day, its solid form simply dissipating into a black smoke-like gas.

Adrian then laid his shoulder against the door and shoved his body-weight into it, bursting through, brutishly and loudly.

The group was met with yet another group of three all standing at the ready for whomever broke through their door. Two humans in the back, and one shockingly unconcerned-looking dwarf in the middle of the two.

“Wonderful,” the dwarf sneered. “Intruders. I hope you have a good reason for breaking and entering into my home.”

“Apologies, mate.” Adrian replied scratching the back of his neck. “But your mayor’s sent me here to convince you to come fight with the rest of the militia.”

“Apology accepted. The name’s Dwyn, pleased to meet you. Now get out.” He ordered brashly, to Adrian’s surprise.

“Listen here, you little pile of nug shite! As much trouble as I went through to get in h--” Adrian started, before being blindsided by a punch from one of Dwyn’s leather-armored companions. Leliana and Sten both threw their hands to their weapons, knowing that this could very easily evolve into an altercation.

Adrian, now kneeling on one knee, gave a side-glancing grin at the companion who had just hit him. “Been a while since I’ve been knocked to my knees while sober. That’s quite-a-hook you’ve got, there. But you didn’t let me finish…” He trailed, getting to his feet again, and wiping the small amount of blood from the side of his mouth. “What I was _meant_ to say, was—You little pile of nug shite, why keep yourself holed-up in here?” Adrian repeated.

“ _We’re_ surviving.” Dwyn replied. “We have supplies to last for quite some time, and my boys and I can swing a weapon better than any of those fools out there.”

“We should not waste what precious little time we have, attempting to satisfy a small coward like him.” Sten advised.

At hearing that, Adrian just couldn’t believe what his ears were being graced with. He let out a long, frustrated sigh, and held his fingers to the bridge of his nose.

“I just don’t get it. You would stay in here. To what? Die horribly in a house as opposed to dying horribly on the battlefield? Besides, those supplies of yours will do bugger-all if your body is torn into little pieces. Doesn’t seem like much of a plan, mate.”

“Thanks for the advice, but I’ll take my chances in here. Everyone else can run around in the open, waiting to die.” Dwyn responded, no ounce of compassion in his voice, something Adrian was well-versed in.

He huffed once more, but decided that this dwarf was going to be the sort the required a deal. He’d dealt with many-a-lowly salesman in his time on the road, and many more slimy mages before that in the Circle. It would be tedious, but if he was necessary to make his own job easier, come tonight, then so be it. The sooner this undead issue was dealt with, the sooner he could drink himself into a comfortable sleep. “I’m not going to grovel. But perhaps we can come to an arrangement.”

Dwyn didn’t respond a first, seeming to contemplate Adrian’s words. “Maybe. Let’s hear it.” Dwyn said, coming to his decision.

“I could put in a good word or two with the Arl, or even Teagan. Make damn sure I can get you some benefits for your troubles.” Adrian offered. He knew it wasn’t much, and such a weak offer wasn’t likely to be accepted, but he was not about to throw himself to the ground and beg, or worse, pay the man to join them.

The dwarf grunted in response. “You might just be able to pull that off, fine. I’ll throw in with the militia. For now. You better be out there, too, when the sun goes down. I’m not fighting for a lost cause, you hear me?” The dwarf finished as he snapped his fingers and the two other men silently rummaged around the house, picking up miscellaneous weapons and tools as they trooped out in single-file to the militia grounds.

Once they were out of earshot, Adrian remarked, “Damn dwarves, too stubborn for their own good, the lot. Guess that’s why we get along so well.” He said smiling into his flask has he took another swig. His eyes soon turned quizzical, however, as he looked into his flask, closing one eye to do so. It was empty, dry.

“Gods-damn-it-all…” Adrian swore, making a noticeable huff at the end. “I guess I’ll just have to find another, then.”

“Another… what?” Leliana pried, interested in what he was planning this time.

“My flask – it’s dry. And the last time I felt the need to refill it, I ended up running from Honnleath to Lothering.” He said patting the underside of the flask to see if there was truly no more inside.

“And by that you mean…?” She continued on.

“Long story – _too_ long for right this instant. But just know that every time I’ve got to fill this accursed thing to the brim, it starts a whole spiral of downriver shit.” He said, screwing the cap back onto it. “…Don’t ask me why, I don’t know. I suppose it’s just one of those unrealizable mysteries of the world.” He finished with a slight chuckle, looking at the flask in his right hand.

Leliana decided to shift the subject as he stuffed the object back into his inner coat-pocket. “I have a question for you. If you don’t mind answering.”

“Mhm. Go on.” Adrian said, his eyes wandering around him, Similar to Sten who seemed to be analyzing the military advantage of the coming battle.

“You mentioned something, about--about someone you used to know. In regards to your— _recorded_ —memories.” Leliana said awkwardly, but still unable to stifle her curiosity.

Still not facing her, and gazing up at the massive castle far above them, Adrian responded impassively. “Ah, you mean my mentor.”

Unknowingly to him, Leliana’s eyes sparked with a mix of surprise and joy. The same joy that comes when you pull off tree bark and find a den filled with baby squirrels. Her questioning had been rewarded.

“Your mentor? Is he a part of the Circle?” She continued on, even against her better judgement. She was sure if she continued on this path, it was very likely he would shut himself off, again. But despite herself, she wanted to know more. _Old habits die hard…_ She thought to herself. She was doing exactly what she would have done to a potential victim, assessing them, but it had been a very long time since she had come across someone she was so genuinely curious of.

He turned back to her, and she almost flinched away, not ready to face him after her inquiry.

“As far as I know? Yes.” He said, not daring to give her any more than that.

She told herself, _once more,_ and then she would cease. One more question and that was all she would need to know.

“What was his na--? Hey! Where are you going?” She asked as Adrian began silently walking off.

“To the tavern. Need a top this little bastard off, remember?” He said, his face never turning back to address her.

She huffed, not quite sure what to do, but decided to jog up to him, unintentionally joining him on whatever shenanigans he had planned next.

\--ROTG—

**Song Choice: Superstition – Stevie Wonder**

“Azra Nightwielder.”

“So that is his name, then?” Leliana asked, sitting at the bar of the tavern with Adrian, perfectly suited to sit here and listen to all of his deepest secrets.

He made a noise of satisfaction, having had his thirst quenched by his most recent downing of ale. “That’s right. Azra Nightwielder, my mentor…” He trailed off, almost apprehensive to continue on.

Leliana thought she spotted the first flash of true pain in his eyes, after having told her of him. He was usually so stoic, always batting away any painful memory that pounced on his psyche with ill-temper or quick-witted humor. She was certain now, that Azra meant something more to him than just a teacher.

“Do you miss him? Your master?” Leliana asked softly.

Adrian looked at her with a spark of fiery intensity she had not seen yet. A spark she could go without seeing for another twenty years, if possible. It shook her more than she thought. She had dealt with many different sorts of people, and in all that time, she had seen all the colors of human emotion. Leliana had never seen someone so walled-off, so bent on keeping to himself. But now, she thought she was as close as anyone could be to seeing the flesh behind the mask. That spark of pain told her everything she needed to know.

“He’s _not_ my master.” Adrian snapped. Not willing to tolerate this conversation any longer. But soon, he came down, and realized quickly that what he’d said was immature. But more importantly, even though he would not acknowledge it, he had broken character. “Sorry… I didn’t mean—”

“No, It’s okay. It was a painful memory; I can see that. I have my fair share, myself.” Leliana counseled, taking a small swig from her own tankard.

“Life’s a stone-cold, bitch. That much is true…” Adrian trailed off. “But reality’s just a story that’s taken on a life of its own. So, we’ve just gotta soldier on.” He said cryptically, lifting his mug into the air. “Cheers.” He finished clattering his mug with the red-headed lay-sister beside him, after which, both took a long gulp out of their tankards.

They both drank in silence for a while, neither knowing how to continue the conversation.

“So, you’ve told me about your vision—dream, whatever… But what you haven’t told me is why you’re here, in Ferelden, because I know for damn certain that you are not a native.” Adrian surmised. “So why come?”

“I consider myself Ferelden, my mother was from Denerim, you know.” She defended. “Mother served an Orlesian noblewoman who lived here when Orlais ruled. When Orlais was defeated and the common folk began to resent the presence of any Orlesian, the lady returned to Orlais. She took my mother with her. I was born in Orlais, though, and did not set foot in Ferelden till much later. Mother was always telling me stories of her homeland; I think she missed it.” Leliana informed, trading Adrian a few details of her own life, in return for what little he had given her.

“And your mother? What happened to her?”

Her eyes seemed to droop a bit at that question, it was yet another pain-filled memory of a time gone by. “Mother died when I was very young. Lady Cecilie let me stay with her. I had no one else. She was quite old then, and she had me study music and dance to entertain her. It is unfair, that I have more memories of Cecilie than my mother.”

“You were young—I don’t remember much of my mother, either. Save that all I ever saw her do was cry.” Adrian responded, sadly.

Leliana didn’t pry any longer, letting Adrian’s statement die in the air, instead opting to just keep the conversation flowing.

“Strangely, the only thing I really remember of Mother was her scent. She kept dried flowers in her closet, amongst her clothes.” She reminisced. “Small, white Ferelden wildflowers with a sweet fragrance. Mother called them Andraste’s Grace. They were very rare in Orlais…” She trailed off, with an inquisitive look. Adrian didn’t originally pay any mind to it, but after a bit, began to question her himself.

“What? You’re looking at me like I’ve got a frog stuck to my face.” Adrian said, soon after realizing that she wasn’t looking at him, but looking past him.

“The elf, in the back, there. Do you see him?” She said, as Adrian turned around on his barstool.

The elf man eyed the two warily, glancing to and away at a moment’s notice. Adrian turned back to Leliana once again.

“Mhm. Looks more than a little conspicuous to me.”

“Very conspicuous.” She agreed. “Shall we?” She said, getting up from her barstool and gesturing for Adrian to follow and do the same.

“Hang back, if he tries anything, he doesn’t make it out the door.” He ordered at Leliana, receiving a sturdy nod of understanding in return.

As the magician approached the elf, he looked up. “Not looking for company,” he said brusquely. “I’m not here to talk.”

“Too bad, mate. ‘Cause I am.” Adrian replied, darkly. “The last time someone stared at me like you, I had to kill him.”

“Sure you did,” the elf snapped back. Adrian winced, realizing his bluff had failed.

“There’s something about him,” Leliana said, meeting the elf’s eyes. “You know what I’m talking about, don’t you? I know a spy when I see one.”

“Look, I don’t know you, and I don’t want to,” the elf spoke hurriedly. “I’m not...I mean I was just told to...I mean, just leave me alone!”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Adrian said, as Leliana spread away from him, making her presence known, and emphasizing that the elf was cornered. “Start talking.”

“About what? Just because you’re a Grey Warden doesn’t mean you can go around threatening people!”

“No, the fact that I can incinerate you with a thought means that.” Adrian threatened, no sign of bluff this time. He’d run out of patience. “And what makes you think I’m a Grey Warden?”

The elf glanced at Leliana’s form. “I just...overheard it,” the elf replied evasively. “That’s all. If you’ll excuse me, I want to get to the Chantry before the sun goes down.”

Adrian clicked his fingers, and the elf stiffened as a film of frost appeared freezing him to his seat. “Y’know? This could be _so_ much easier if you just tell me what you’re hiding, and kindly fuck off with the ignorance shtick.”

The elf stammered a bit, before slumping. “Oh, all right, I’ll tell you! Just...don’t hurt me.”

“Dear Maker, stop being such a cock-tease, and just tell me!” Adrian said, theatrically, having quite a bit of fun with the timid elf.

“This is more than I bargained for. Look, they just paid me to watch the castle and send word if anything should change. But they never said anything about monsters! I haven’t even been able to report anything since this started! I’m stuck, same as you, I swear!”

“Who are ‘they’?” Adrian challenged, dispensing with the theatrics as quickly as he assumed them. “Who put you up to this?”

“A tall fellow, I forget his name. He said he was working for Howe. Arl Rendon Howe.”  
  
Adrian couldn’t say he’d ever met the man, nor really ever heard his name. But he did recall something quite pertinent in that moment. Just two nights ago, the group had a long conversation around the fire about what had brought them to this point in their lives. All said their peace, and the name—Howe—came up. Jade said that he was the man responsible, but didn’t detail anything specific.

“Who is this, ‘Howe’?” He asked, curious, now.

“He’s an important man!” The elf protested. “Teyrn Loghain’s right hand! So I didn’t do anything wrong!”

“You idiot,” Adrian sighed. “Loghain abandoned the king at Ostagar! Congratulations, you’ve just helped a regicide take out one of the most premier threats to his coup.” The elf blanched. “I think you should help defend Redcliffe tonight. Speak to Murdock, tell him I sent you. Now bugger off.” The elf scrambled out the door, the bench crunching as he came unstuck. Just before he could open it however, he was beckoned once more by Adrian. “Oh, and if I see you anywhere but that battlefield, tonight, I’ll kill you. Clear?” The elf nodded frantically as he threw open the door just as such.

“He called you a Grey Warden. Why, I wonder?” Leliana questioned.

“To be fair, he might have just mistaken me for Alistair. Considering he did _only_ overhear a conversation or two.” Adrian reasoned, walking over to the quiet tavern’s bar to retrieve their unfinished pints. Leliana thanked him as she once more took a sip of her drink.

“You said you were a minstrel, right? You know, I once heard the damndest thing about Orlesian minstrels.” Adrian said, with a grin, smiling off at the wall beyond him, Leliana standing parallel to his shoulder.

“What was it?” Leliana said, already quite sure of where he was going to take this conversation.

“That they are not _just_ minstrels, but double as spies! Can you believe that?” Adrian said, summoning back his theatrics.

“Where did you hear this?”

“Oh, I don’t think I heard it, so much as I did read it in an old history book from the Circle.”

“And did you not think that this could be _historical_ fact, alone, and no longer true?” She questioned, granting herself a joyful laugh. “Well—if you must know, not all minstrels are spies, most are just singers and storytellers. But some of them are… are what we call bards.”

“So, what’s the catch? What’s the dirty little secret that separates, ‘bard’, from ‘minstrel’?”

“Many use the two words, ‘minstrel’, and ‘bard’ interchangeably, but to do so in Orlais would cause misunderstanding.” She explained, Adrian taking in every word, in between gulps. He was one of those who could say you back every word of a conversation you had two rooms down from him. It was a useful skill when eavesdropping, but not so much when the good lady he would invite to dinner interpreted his faraway gaze as ignoration. Thankfully, Leliana already caught onto that fact. “Bards _are_ minstrels, and more. Spies, as you say. Some say there is a bard order, but I don’t think this is true. Many bards work alone or in small groups, doing the bidding of any patron who pays for their services. If there is an organization behind it all, no one knows who they are.”

At that, Adrian made a sound, similar to that of a melding of a groan and sigh. “Ah. I wish Orlesians wouldn’t do that…”

“Do what?” She replied, confused.

“Dress up one worse thing in the guise of another, far more innocent thing, and call it nomenclature.” He explained, gesturing for her to go on, with one hand holding his head, and the other holding his tankard. “You’ve said it all yourself, love. Bards _are_ minstrels, accept they are the ones who do the killing, seducing, and spying. It’s not that hard to grasp.” He took another sip, and put the mug onto the table, letting go of it off of his better judgement, _best to be sober for a night-fight against the undead_ , he thought. “So, you seem to know a fair bit about these bards, don’t you, Priestess?”

She knew now that she’d been beaten. No one in she had tried so hard to keep it hidden, and she did, for so long… No one in Ferelden knew, but it was this man, standing in front of her this night, who broke the seal.

Leliana sighed, and let her truth be known. “And I should, shouldn’t I, after having spent much of my life as one. You’ve guessed as much, I’m sure.”

“That I have. It was your fighting, that tipped me, at first—far too nimble and graceful to be a cloistered sister. Then, it was your procurement of my coin purse, that manner of sleight of hand is not something that’s taught during and after prayer-time, I’d guess.” He said, revealing how he’d detected her. She assumed it to be out of respect. They had all come from broken pasts, but Leliana made the effort to hide hers with the most cunning.

“So very perceptive, Adrian Amell. Whatever—”

“I wasn’t finished…” He interrupted, to her surprise, there was more. “When you bumped into me on our first night in camp, I felt your hand for the briefest moment and couldn’t help but notice the slight roughness in texture on your fingertips. A trademark of someone trained to wield a weapon, or a builder, but I couldn’t see you as someone fit for manual labor, anyway. They were Calluses, much like my own.”

She didn’t really have anything else to respond with, being beaten at her own game.

“Let me tell you something about myself, Priestess. I’m not the most _powerful_ magician, not the _smartest,_ not the _best,_ and damn-sure not the easiest to handle, but I _am_ the most cunning… on that, you can rest easy, knowing it to be the unimpeachable truth, something in increasingly rare store, these days.”  
  
She just blinked at him for a few moments, having not he faintest idea to carry this conversation onward, and, as if on que, the door opened once again to reveal Jade, Morrigan, Alistair, and the dog. Alistair’s eyes seemed to be focused intently on Morrigan.

“Have a care where your eyes linger, Alistair.” Morrigan responded suggestively.

“Yes, well, don’t worry, it’s not what you think.” He replied tiredly.

“I see.” Morrigan said narrowing her eyes most contemptuously.

“I was looking at your _nose_ …” He trailed off, and tired though he may be, was entirely aware of what he was doing.

“And what is it about my nose that captivates you so?” She snapped at him, having little tolerance for the man’s regular speech, let alone his words when she was fully aware he was having her on for some imprudent attempt at an insult.

“I was just thinking that it looks _exactly_ like your mother’s.” Alistair said, coming to his punchline.

Morrigan’s eyes widened farther than Adrian had ever seen them open before, she looked truly shocked at Alistair’s choice of insult. To Morrigan however, her widened eyes were more the result of frustration. Frustration that she could not, for the first time, come up with something to counter Alistair’s witless remarks.

She clenched her fists and shook them in front of her. “I hate you _soooo_ much…”

Alistair put a hand over his ear in mocking. “Hmm? What?”

“Never mind!” She said, walking over to take a seat near the spots Adrian and Leliana had laid claim to.

Adrian then turned to Jade. “By your being here, I’ll take it everything’s peachy?

“You could say that, yes. All that’s left to do now is prepare the field, and let the sun come down… Where’s Sten?” Jade asked, looking around the bar, and not readily spotting the hulking wall of a man.

“Yeah. Said he was going to watch over the militiamen, or some other such tosh.” Adrian said, taking one last deep gulp, finishing his tankard off.

“Then let’s find him.” Jade said, patting him on the shoulder, beckoning him to get up from his seat, silently communicating to him that they had a job to do.


	10. Until Dawn

The group currently consisted of Morrigan, Alistair, Adrian, Leliana, and Jade. Gerard notwithstanding, were all sitting on various scales of anxiousness for the coming night. Morrigan seemed to show nothing but brutal certainty, but to the trained eye, one would only need to look at her fingers, and the coal-colored nails that sat upon their tips… trembling ever-so-slightly, one could even reason it away as the soft breeze.

Alistair, far less trained in the ways of stoicism, had no qualms about showing his stress. He knew this, but reasoned that it didn’t matter, so long as he did his duty by tomorrow’s dawn. Adrian didn’t much care, really, seeing tonight’s battle as a necessity and nothing more. A means to an end. That’s what he told himself, at least. It made the death easier for him, and the ale go down quicker. But he had to admit, he was interested in one thing… the _why._ Why was this happening? What power fueled these rotting meat sacks? These questioned spurred him on even further.

Leliana, bard as she was, was keen on keeping her emotions stable until the job was done, otherwise it could interfere with her effectiveness. But she did hope, at least, that these people could make it to safety, if they indeed failed their task. Failing to keep these dark creatures at bay. Deeper down… she knew that wasn’t true—if they failed, these people were sure to die tonight, so it was all the more important to her that they fight until the very last.

Jade—well, she had no idea what she was in for. The only thing she did know, was that she knew nothing—nothing about the undead, nothing about the magic that surely was behind such a phenomenon, and really nothing about how to lead these people she had come to know, not in times like these. But she would have to, despite that, otherwise… what use was there for her mother and father to die for her sake, if she just abandoned people in a time of need. No. She wouldn’t spit on their memory that way, she couldn’t, all she could do now was… soldier on… and mask herself in a brave face—even if it was just putting on airs.

“So, the knights are ready? And what about that blacksmith—Owen, was it?” Adrian asked as the group walked down the hill from the tavern.

“Correct. Ser Perth and his comrades have what they need, and Owen was—” Jade started.

“The blacksmith is more than taken care of. He asked a great deal of us—the wretched little man.” Morrigan jumped in, with a sour look on her face, seemingly reminiscing on the event.

Adrian had a look of concern appear on his face. “ _What_ did he ask of us…?”

Morrigan opened her mouth to reply, but was beaten to it by Jade.

“Owen asked us to infiltrate the castle and save his daughter, Valena, even if she’s dead. Should we win the night.”

Adrian made a gruff sigh. “And there was no way to persuade him otherwise?”

“No. But at least he is doing his good work, now. The militia will have everything they need tonight.” Jade encouraged, almost having made it to the militia tents, where they would discuss plans.

Adrian had almost forgotten, but with a shock of emotion in his chest, as the thought reentered his mind, he decided it would be best to inform her, it was only fair that she know.

“Jade… There’s something you might wanna know about.” He said, stiffly, not really knowing how to carry on with any kind of emotional conversation, which this was sure to turn into. “I ran into someone in the bar—just before you arrived—and he told me something…” He’d got her attention now, eyes focused intently on him and his words—suspense building. The pressure was on. “He mentioned a name—Howe, I think, Arl Rendon Howe, specifically.”

She stopped dead in her tracks, not daring to move an inch further before hearing the rest of Adrian’s testimony. In fact, Adrian was quite shocked at how quickly she shifted from fluid motion to stark frozenness.  
  
She spoke slowly, so as to make sure that Adrian heard and understood _every_ word, clearly. “Does he know where he is? Howe?”

Adrian couldn’t remember many times he had been intimidated by a woman. Usually far smaller than him and without a butcher knife in hand and a poor temper, he wasn’t likely to budge. But this was different, she didn’t need to turn her eyes to him, and at the mention of that name, the very air shifted around the party. It turned sour—like standing near a cesspit. It was the emanating feeling of pure, unadulterated, _rage_.

“No. But—he was damn-sure involved in more than just your… your parents.” Adrian said, still struggling with how he should be wording this sensitive subject, especially considering the young woman standing just in front of him who looked primed to murder him, should he make one misstep in his words.

“I figured as much—slimy, terrible, horrible bastard, he is…” She said, with angry fire spewing from her mouth “What’s he done this time?”

“He—well, he seems to be in league… with Loghain.” Adrian revealed, surprisingly getting a look of shock from Jade. She thought she had prepared herself for anything—but this? This was beyond _anything._ “Perhaps—just maybe—could be the reason he… did what he did.”

It had been a very long couple of days for Jade. First Alistair—now this? Her whole world was being rocked back and forth harder than a ship in squall, all the while, trying to lead--trying to be the best she can be—for her parents, even if it wasn’t for herself. In their honor—she _swore,_ Rendon Howe would die a most gruesome death—the only punishment fit for a traitor such as he.

“I… I should have known… And—I think I did—deep down, I just never wanted to acknowledge the possibility…” She trailed off, not able to properly put into words all of her racing thoughts. She would need to take some time to think, but that time was not now—there was a battle to prepare for, after all. “But—enough about that. What did you do with the—accomplice?”

“I let him live. On the condition he serve in the militia for the night.” Adrian said with a sinister grin. “Punishment enough, I think.”

“Good—he isn’t the man himself—so I’ll allow him a chance at redemption. Good call.” She said moving forward through the camp and to the largest war tent where everyone had gathered to scheme.

Upon entering the crimson-colored tent, there were a mix of voices, and it was almost intelligible to Adrian and Jade. Too many voices at once, like a crowded bar during a celebration for some poor sod’s death—or a high-born salon that had raged on for a few hours too long.

“—What of the traps, have they been set?” Bann Teagan said, now encased in mail and plate.

“Not yet, my lord. The militiamen are toiling as we speak.” The knight-captain, Ser Perth replied.

“Good. After that is complete, all that will be left to do… is wait.” Teagan finished, looking towards the two newcomers.  
  


\--ROTG—

A few hours pass, and Adrian can be found sitting on a stray chair, turned backward, his head resting firmly in the palm of his hand, looking out to the distance as the sun lowered ever-so-slowly, gradually tinting the earth in a progressively more vivid orange. Bored wasn’t the right word, really, crippled by anticipation, more like—unable to enjoy much of anything until the bad business was taken care of. He _hated_ this part of his job, back before he threw in with this lot—always having to forgo his pleasures for the work, but it needed to be done—otherwise… no money for said pleasures.

“For all we had to do, it’s amazing how quickly we managed to get it all done.” Alistair remarked, sitting on the ground next to him, one leg arched above the other. “But the hardest part of any battle is the waiting.” He said, grinding out the edges of his blade with his whetstone. “You spoke to Bann Teagan, I take it?”

“That’s right. Got as much as I could out of him about what he _really_ suspects is going on here. Unsurprisingly, Morrigan was right once again, asking people who wouldn’t know magic if it slapped them across the face and called them, “mummy”, is unadvisable, if only for the headache it brings for the inquirer.” Adrian finished, taking one last gulp of a bottle of spirit he found just lying around the camp. For some reason someone had left a wooden box of various different baubles. A small painting here, an herb mortar there, but there was a nice bottle of Antivan rum that sat amongst them… And it was at this very moment that Adrian realized that he may have just robbed what precious-little belongings one of these poor fools had left to their name. It would certainly explain the random items in the case. _It’s going towards a good cause, at least. But no more, otherwise I would be more likely to stab myself in the leg than engage in actual combat… again_ He reasoned, a small faint smirk appearing on his face. “But I was able to get _something_ useful out of him—sort of.”

“What’s that?” Alistair questioned, putting his whetstone away and sheeting his blade, letting Adrian know he had his undivided attention.

“He kept going on about a quest – one Redcliffe’s knights had been on for some time now, by the sound.” Adrian informed.

“Right, the Ashes of Andraste, heard about that, too.” Alistair shook his head. “It’s the arlessa’s doing, I know that. I just can’t imagine why she would think that a handful of knights could hope to find an artifact that’s been lost to time for—what? Nine-hundred-or-so years, in the middle of a Blight _and_ civil war, no less.”

“Well, we’ve been charged with _saving the_ _world._ Us. Misfits, liars, outcasts, and degenerates, all of us—but here we are, helping a town in need from a sodding undead horde!” He threw his arms in the air dramatically, “…Not to say that I believe in all that Andraste’s Ashes shite—just putting it out there—crazier things _have_ happened…”

“Are you two prepared? Or are you going to sit down—drinking yourselves away until the undead are feasting upon your screaming bodies?” Morrigan stalked from behind the two.

“’Course I’m prepared, Swampy. Always am.” Adrian said, getting to his feet, Alistair mirroring him.

 _Swampy ,_ was his brand new… nickname--he’d conjured for Morrigan from the bowels of his hungover dream-state subconscious, as he’d been trying to do since he first met these jokers. It was an entertaining thing to think about when nothing else appealed, and, as another fringe benefit, he got to see the many _varied_ reactions of his fellow misfits. Leliana was easy, so she was first to the gallows, “Priestess” it was. He used it the very first time he spoke to her in Lothering, and she turned red as a tomato.

Jade, a bit harder, had a storied past, and a strong will, but just couldn’t quite get away from her heritage, so “Princess” felt easy enough. She didn’t necessarily _like_ it but didn’t actively _dislike_ it, either, she was more or less indifferent.

Morrigan—well, the first time he tried “Swampy” on her, she looked as if she couldn’t care less, his dying alone and unwanted would have been less news to her than a lone water droplet hitting a dry leaf. However, upon further experimentation, Adrian found that with continued use, side effects included: Nearly being choked to death by a sentient tree vine, brought to life by nature magic with malicious intent, having cat piss soaked into every last item of clothing you own, except for your precious long-coat, and multiple threats of castration, by way of superheated knife, all within the span of five days.

Alistair, one of the hardest in the group to name—a rookie Templar and a junior Grey Warden with little to show for his career in either field, so Adrian just opted to call him “Junior”, and leave it at that.

Sten… a man who Adrian heavily suspected would have the taste of chalk, if eaten. Course, gritty, and could dry out your mouth and choke you alive with little effort. Sten was the only member his wit had not been able to infect, yet. For the past few days, he’d been thinking of simply calling him, “Wall”, but he decided against it, ‘Too on-the-nose’ he thought. So, all-in-all, undecided on Sten.

“You had best be—the undead will not wait for _you._ And neither will I.” She said, turning away from them, with an annoyed look on her face, having completed her assignment to fetch the boys.

He didn’t know if it was the faint buzz of alcohol in his system, or just his internalized degeneracy, but his eyes had quite the hard time separating from Morrigan’s backside. Morrigan could be a nasty bitch most of the time—but he had to admit, she was more interesting to him than just about anyone else in the merry little band they had assembled, and she had a way about her—one that could entrance him wholly. In a way that desire demons had a hard time doing--when he had to deal with them, that is. _Maybe it’s in the way she walks?_ He thought, reluctantly tearing himself away and gathering the last of his materials, as the sun began to set.

Soon, the night of endless strife would begin…

\--ROTG—

**Song Choice: The Attack of the Dead Men - Sabaton**

Jade, Adrian and Alistair all sat in front, awaiting the final gleam of sunlight.

Adrian gnawed on his final piece of jerky he’d been keeping in his satchel as the sun finally disappeared over the horizon. “Is everything ready?” He asked for the fourth time in the past half hour, usually his nerves were better than this, but… he’d never seen battle on this scale before. He’d be committing a cold sin, should he dare say that he wasn’t indeed as nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs. Undead was one thing, one he’d faced a _few_ times in the past, but enough undead to swallow a town? That was above his paygrade. But he had a plan… he just had to make sure everyone played their part on his little game board.

“Yes,” Ser Perth replied. “We are as prepared as we can be.” As the sky darkened, Ser Perth signaled to his men. A quartet of men hauled barrels of oil out to the narrowest point in the path to the castle. Uncorking the barrels, the knights poured them out, standing clear of the spilling oil as it coated the topsoil. “Be ready,” he warned. “They come soon after dark.”

“We’re ready, mate. Just make sure you do your end… and I’ll do mine” Adrian responded, trying to summon enough of a brave face to at least confer with this knight. His eyes widened as he saw a greenish glow reflect off of the mists that had only recently covered the ground, lighting the way from the castle. “Is that...”

“Yes,” Ser Perth growled to a militia runner as the greenish glow began to move along the bridge to the town, a trail of unworldly light following it. “Send word. They are coming.”

The man sprinted off, yelling at the top of his lungs. “GET TO YOUR POSITIONS!! MAKE READY!!”

“Prepare yourselves,” Ser Perth said. The knight took a deep breath, his face calm. “Maker, please watch over us in this trying time.”

“Oh—just—stone the fuck up…” Adrian mumbled lowly in response.

Mist began to gather around their feet, and Jade glanced about. “Has this happened before?”

“Every time,” Ser Perth replied. “Be alert. They hide in the mist.”

Adrian spotted figures moving amongst the clouded air, and began to draw from the shadows to form his black sword, “Knights, hang back. Let our ranged fighters handle them until they get closer.” Jade ordered, as Leliana, and Alistair drew their bows, while Morrigan readied her staff. Sten and Gerard stepped aside, content to stay out of the way until needed.

The sound of clanging and snapping reached the defenders. “Seems they’ve found the iron-jaws.”Alistair commented.

“Light the traps!” Ser Perth ordered as the walking corpses came into view.

“Maker preserve us,” Leliana breathed as more of the creatures flooded down the hill. “There are so many...”

“Why are those traps not lit?” Ser Perth demanded. One of the knights looked up, fumbling with a set of flint and steel as another waited with an arrow wrapped in an oil-soaked rag. Morrigan sighed, spinning her staff and lobbing a fireball into the midst of the oil field, sending bodies flying and igniting the oil. Ser Perth flinched at the blast, but regained his composure, drawing his longswsword.

“Alistair, Morrigan, with me,” Jade called, striding forward. “Archers! Aim carefully!” Said Adrian as an arrow whizzed by his ear and caught a walking corpse in the eye socket, and turned to glare at the sheepish knight. “For _them,_ you ponce!”

Morrigan moved first, a cluster of glyphs blazing to life on the ground ahead of the field of fire. As the corpses strode through the fire, heedless of the flames licking at their rotting flesh, they stepped into the trap laid by the witch, setting off the glyphs. Some were blasted backwards into the fire, black smoke streaming from their bodies as they burned. Others were frozen in place, paralyzed by the magic.

The archers opened fire, and arrows zipped past the forward trio, felling undead left and right. More pushed past them, and Morrigan once again took over, snapping off a cluster of entropic curses and finishing up with a sustained blast of lightning, several of the paralyzed undead dropping as their bodies were too damaged to continue.

Adrian, for his part, was weaving magic, shadows flowing through the air around him and resonating with his building spell. Peering through the flames, he spotted more of the undead stomping down the path from the castle towards the defenders. The magic reached its peak, and Adrian absorbed the gathered shadows into himself, empowering him greatly. He felt stronger—and a little faster, even. He didn’t like doing this, but it was either this, or be dragged off to the castle to endure Maker-knows-what.

The undead were unmindful to the damage the raging flames were doing to their bodies, and they were closing in on him and Leliana. She continued to release arrow, after arrow at them, hitting nearly every shot. He knew that if they broke through the frontline guard, they would’ve broken through Alistair, Jade, and Morrigan—and then it would be his turn.

Jade began to feel her breath hamper—it was becoming harder to keep fighting at this pace with every passing moment. She slashed at them as they came to her, one by one, the walking corpses fell to her. It wasn’t much longer though that she had lost track of Morrigan. In the sparse moments she would find herself a few seconds of reprieve, Jade looked around frantically as the mist began to thicken even further, only being lit by the faint green light emanating from where she assumed the castle to be. Never mind. She needed to focus, after all, she still had Alistair—wherever Morrigan may be. They two would push back the tide, and she just had to hope that the rest were still okay… and hope was running.

It was time now… Everything was in place, and now all it required was initiative.

“STEN!! GET OVER HERE AND CLEAR LELIANA AND I A PATH!!” Adrian yelled over the horrible sounds of wartime.   
  
Sten did not hesitate, drawing his great sword and quickly starting. His sword skill was that of a trained master, there were not many with a wrath such as his. Every walking corpse that lunged his way was met with the business-end of a greatsword. Adrian and Leliana made a point to move forward, knowing that time was short, and they only had one shot.

Whatever Sten was immediately unable to slice in half, Adrian, along with his black blade,“Umbra”, gracefully lopped limbs, extinguishing the weak light of life the creatures yet held within.

Leliana dropped her aim, hitting a corpse in the kneecap and dropping it to the ground. It snarled at them, and Leliana loosed another arrow, ending the creature. She looked towards Adrian as he stabbed another through the neck, and realized that his style—his fighting form… looked eerily similar to something she’d seen before. “Where did you learn to fight that way?!” She asked loudly, making sure her question was heard by him over the noise.

“Like I said, before, weapons have memories, got this beauty from the same place I bought my long-coat!” He said, nearly perfectly balancing the chaos around him as he killed yet another poor corpse. “Peddler said it was an old, retired Orlesian chevalier’s sword. The thing was rusted and dirt cheap when I bought it, and after some toying…” He trailed being rudely interrupted by a screaming undead who he quickly relieved of its head, “…I made it _better_ than new.”

She tried to see how that was any explanation at all, but just couldn’t do it with all the clamoring around her, it wouldn’t allow her to think. She told herself to let it go for now, and made a point to ask him again, later.

It was not long before Sten had forced his way through, and they stood not far from where the militia grounds had been just a few hours earlier. Adrian knew he hadn’t much longer within him—the magical expenditure was beginning to ail him. It took immense focus to even keep the damn sword in his hands, let alone keep drawing more power into himself. It felt like he was running entirely on adrenaline at this point, figuring he would have fainted awhile back, had he not been in this sort of bind. But he was _so close, now_. Just push a bit more— _Morrigan was waiting._

Alistair shouted in a corpse’s face a few feet to Jade’s right as he shoved a trio of them back with his shield, before lopping one’s head off and parrying an attack from the next, shoving it to the side as Jade’s sword came down, the corpse’s head dropping cleanly off its shoulders. Jade turned, kicking the next in the kneecap, parrying two independent attacks before her blades whirled, body parts flying left and right as her weapon liberated them from their owners. One of the odd hands that came loose bounced off Gerard’s flank as the warhound tackled a corpse off a screaming militiaman, the dog’s mighty jaws snapping the creature’s neck easily. The dog bounded away, blindsiding a corpse that was charging a saggingAdrian from behind, the mage spinning and lopping one of the corpse’s hands off as he heard the clattering of paws on the moist ground. The edge of the sword caved in the undead creature's skull as he brought it down in a fluid overhand swing. All of the members, along with the remaining people, looked as if they would make their final stand here. It was getting too hard to see, Jade and Alistair had barely made it out of the frontlines and hadn’t the slightest clue where Morrigan had gone, or if she was even alive. But Adrian—his plan was still in motion—but… if he kept up like this… he knew that it could be taxing, maybe even deadly, but he pressed on anyhow, reasoning that, _If I’m gonna die today it will not be in the mouth of some emaciated, half-dead bone-bag._ He knew his plan would work; he just needed an opening…

At that, the wind began to shift—it was a breeze—and it blew away the thick, oppressive mists. Beyond, he could see the fruits of his planning. Between the houses of the village, massive, intricate webs had been spun between them. Making a most sticky cage. _We have them_. Adrian thought to himself. Nonetheless the braindead humanoids continued to push the web-lined enclosure, heedless of their already-caught comrades. _Morrigan, she’s done her part, now for mine._

Jade looked to Alistair and saw that his jaw had dropped a bit at the sight. She didn’t know what was going on, honestly, only that, whatever it was, it was working. “Morrigan’s been busy, I see.” He quipped, as the silhouette of the giant spider scuttled across the rooftops. “Disgusting, yet effective.”

“Would you do like to do the honors, Priestess?” Adrian asked with a worn toothy grin, signaling the next part of his plan.

“It would be my genuine pleasure.” She responded as she pulled her special arrow, she had been keeping tucked away in her quiver, up until now. It was one that had a small greased rag wrapped around it, and all it would take was a single spark to light. With that in mind, all Adrian had do, was snap his fingers, and the arrow’s tip burst to life. Leliana took a good, long look at the web, and the many undead who had carelessly stuck themselves inside, and realized that her arrow, with perfect certainty, would strike its target. The undead who caught the arrow’s fiery blaze first was the one to scream the loudest. It was speedy… the entire web burned with the most glorious rage; a heat so brazen that it could be felt twenty meters back. They all screamed like hell, but all Adrian could hear was the sweet sound of his plan being realized.

Meanwhile, Jade watched as the brilliant orange flame burned higher than she had ever seen any fire burn. There _would_ be damages to the homes, that was certain, but in retrospect, she was sure the residents would understand. Adrian, as arrogant as he was, stepped out into the open, arms outstretched, though, he was quickly tackled by a rogue undead, who had pierced a hole through one of Morrigan’s webs. He didn’t see it coming, the bastard thought he had won the night. It clawed ferociously at his face and the arms that protected it. Jade moved in to help, but was beaten to it as a shard of ice came piercing though the ravenous undead’s head. Morrigan had bailed him out of his idiocy. The creature went limp just after, and Leliana jogged up to his fallen form, pushing the creature off of him, and helping him to his feet.

“Might I—Might I trouble you for a healing potion, good lady?” Adrian coughed out pitifully, in stark contrast to his revelry only moments ago.

“’Tis ‘good lady’, now, is it?” She questioned with observant eyes, wanting to see more _need_ out of him. “Fine. Take it.”

“Are you okay?” Leliana said, as Morrigan took position, knowing this respite would not last…

“I’m fine, could use some lyrium, though. Reserves are getting weak.” He said, quickly downing the bitter red liquid in the bottle.

Without having the time to react Adrian’s head was assaulted with the spherical side of another bottle, as it dropped to the ground at his feet. It had been thrown at him. He looked to Morrigan immediately, where he was _sure_ the bottle had come from. The witch had thrown the bottle at him and _then_ insisted on not looking at him, perfectly fit to play fool, pretending to look off in the distance. He rubbed his head a bit, offering no verbal retaliation—too tired to do that, as he picked up the bottle filled with glowing blue liquid.

“Warriors! There! They are breaking though in number!” Ser Perth called out as one of Morrigan’s other webs gave way, letting the built-up horde charge in.

The wooden palisades did not do much to stop them, no more than they did the first time, at least. Surrounded, Morrigan threw lighting left and right, doing all she could to keep them at bay. Three went down, smoking holes left in their skulls from the electricity, but one remained. It charged her from behind, unknowingly, by the time she turned to face it, its sword was already in full swing, there was no way to block it with her staff nor a way to blast him away with magic before his sword cleaved her from shoulder to waist. But the strike never came, only the smell of burnt flesh as she opened her eyes once again. She saw the body was blasted aside, a smoking, cauterized hole, roughly comparable to Sten’s fist was rendered into it. She looked over to her right to see a weakened Adrian, only being kept standing my Leliana, who was supporting his arm over her shoulder. He winced in pain as he felt the repercussions of the elemental magic on his body… it was never his strong suit.

“Don’t like being in no one’s debt, love. And ours…?” He trailed, huffing for a moment, trying his best to keep awake. He had yet to drink the lyrium potion, only using it if it was absolutely necessary—and it was getting damn close to that, now. “Is settled.” The draw on Adrian’s magic had been immense. He didn’t train for long enough, it seemed. He thought that he possessed the stamina to keep on—but he didn’t, and he was feeling the full brunt of his own overconfidence.

As is common in battles, things went bad with surprising speed. Corpses continued to flood through the gaps. For every one that dropped, three took their place. Alistair was forced back by the weight of the corpses against his shield, stabbing instead of slashing with his blade as he tried to stand his ground. Jade’s blade whirled as she took ‘disarming’ literally and relieved several corpses of various limbs, before kicking another to the ground swiftly ending it, but began backing hurriedly away as more corpses swarmed over the ever-growing pile of their freshly dead comrades. Gerard yelped as he was shoulder-charged and forcefully pushed aside, bouncing across the ground and hitting Adrian in the knee sending his near-limp body to the ground.

Jade was losing track now, thirty, forty? How many would it take for these monstrosities to retreat? She’d given everything she thought she had and more. It wasn’t long now… All her life, she wanted to feel the rush of battle—true battle, not tourneys. At Ostagar, she was a no more than an errand-girl, but here, she was on the field. She felt the rush, yes, but also, now, she would feel the fatigue… The fatigue men would feel on fighting for the thirteenth day in a siege, the thought of defeat swirled around in her mind as her energy continued to plummet. _Was this… what Duncan felt… before he…? No! Don’t think like that! Keep fighting!_ She concluded resolutely, _Am I truly meant for greatness, Father? If so, I ask you—please give me the strength to end this, and save my friends!_ With renewed will, she charged in headlong to Alistair, bashing off just enough of his opposition so he could regain his footing and get back on the offensive.

“Thank you!” He called out to her, having finished of the last of his current opposition as she just smiled, before being blindsided by a vicious attack to the head from behind. It was too quick, Alistair hadn’t any time to warn her. The attack nearly knocking her unconscious. Thankfully, Leliana was able to catch the monster with an arrow through where the rotted throat, just before he struck the killing blow. She looked out with ringing ears and blurred eyes, one of which she was blind in, having the weak dark-red discharge of her own blood run down and through her right eye, as she stared out at the grim sight beyond her.

They would be overwhelmed.

Their job would end here.

Ferelden would fall, and all because she couldn’t lead them… _I’m so sorry,_ Jade thought, as her vison began to fade.

All the while, Adrian watched as Jade dropped, blood streaming from her head wound, and saw Teagan fell to one knee, desperately trying to fend off a pack of hissing corpses. Magic shadows swirled around him, lacking direction, lacking order, and he felt panic clawing at his focus. _Why don’t you do something useful you good-for-nothing, bastard!_ He thought to himself. _Get. Up. There’s no running away from this one—not this time—so don’t squander all you’ve been given by dying here! You’ve got to think of something, and right fuckin’ quick, too. SO JUST THINK!!_

Adrian’s battle-weary eyes snapped open with an icy-cold focus fixed within them, plan in mind. “No! Morrigan, get some bloody glyphs on the ground! Stall them! NOW!” The shadow magic streaming off him expanded outwards, intent driving it with a very singular purpose as Morrigan dropped several paralyzing and repulsion glyphs around the remaining defenders, buying them some time. It was a riskier plan than anything he had ever devised before. But it needed to be done, and now, no room for hesitation. He pushed his own black, oppressive mist into the enemy ranks as the mists began to drain away whatever magic life force held them, and transmitted it to himself and wounded that lied around him. Flesh knitted, bones set themselves, and men felt their flagging strength restored as the killer mist Adrian had summoned in a last-ditch effort, pumped more and more strength from it, and into the warriors. He raised his voice, hands outstretched to either side of him. “On your feet!” Ripping the lyrium potion from his satchel and downing it, Adrian lobbed a fireball into the thickest concentration of still-walking corpses, setting them alight, and speedily spending all the magic energy the potion has given him. _Alright, this is it… Last chance._ He thought, unhooking his whip from his belt, and reconfiguring it to its more lethal form from shadowy power.

Leliana ran to help Jade, and put all of her strength into dragging Jade’s heavily armored body out of immediate danger. Stand fast, men!” Alistair hollered. “We're not dead yet! _We will not fail!_ Form up! Defenders of Redcliffe, to me!”

“Morrigan,” Adrian beckoned, with a weakened stutter in his gait, even with his newly-found strength. “Can you create a tempest right now?”

“Where do you want it?” The female mage asked. Adrian pointed out the area in question, and she began weaving the magic, even as Adrian looked at the very last chokepoint, eyeing the distance between the two buildings. He aimed carefully and channeled everything he remembered about the art of elemental magic, a lesson that, he wished he’d paid more attention to in the past. Within Morrigan's stormy tempest, he let out a howling stream of freezing, icy wind, the resulting storm began tearing apart the corpses charging through the gap, the wood and stone of the nearby buildings starting to wear down.

“Focus on the remaining chokepoint!” Teagan ordered.

“No!” Daylen shouted, downing another lyrium potion he swiped from Morrigan’s supply belt and coughing up a bit of blood from the continued unhealthy use of lyrium. “Leave it to me.” Striding forward, he called upon more elemental magic in one hand, the other clasping the handle of his dark whip. Offhandedly whipping an attacking corpse in the face and knocking it off its feet, Adrian stomped-in its brittle skull as he began weaving magic, aiming precisely before blasting a blazing gout of fire into the final chokepoint. Ignoring the searing heat on his face, nearly making him tear up. Scraping his tongue against his teeth to get the sticky feeling of lyrium-buildup off of his tongue. Adrian watched as corpses burnt still trying their hardest to reach him, but he was ready. Backing towards the defenders, he watched as the wounds he sustained healed themselves as his mist nearly dissipated, giving him leave to redirect the remaining life force to himself.

“That is new,” Morrigan said, feeling the magic thrumming in the space around her.

“Forbidden Magic, Swampy. Draining mist. Shadow magic, the good stuff. ,” Adrian admitted. “Shou—shouldn’t be using it, though.”

“Regardless, 'tis turning the tide,” Morrigan said. “Stand firm.”

“Leliana. Did you see any signal from the-the upper defense point?” Jade said weakly, still worried about her comrades

“No. None yet.” She said her eyes pointing once more to it.

“Sten will hold the line,” Alistair said reassuringly.

“He’d damn-well better,” Adrian growled. “We can't be in both places at once!” Morrigan blasted a corpse in the face with a bolt of lightning, dropping the smoking body to the ground. “Alright, Alistair, you’ve fought more battles than me. Do we hold, or do we push them back to the lake?”

“Hold here,” Alistair replied. “We don’t have the numbers to push them back. We can outlast them.”

Adrian threw his hands up again, calling down another bout of elemental power, and he cried out from the strain even as he brought down a storm, this one of lightning rather than fire or frost, and placed it on the far-left avenue, taking the pressure off the western defenders. The undead fell in droves as the storm took its toll, as Adrian finally downed one last lyrium potion, the one he kept for only the gravest of emergencies, gasping for breath. And as his storm finally dissipated, showing the street clear of undead, Adrian did everything he could to not simply collapse to the ground, heavily winded from the effort, and no more artificial energy to gulp down. The final lyrium potion meant to simply to keep him alive.

Half-awake Adrian was still slumped against the wooden stakes of the palisade when Morrigan approached him some time later, “Hello, love. Come to give me congratulations?” the mage said dully, his eyes barely open. “I think I passed out. A few times.”

“Dawn approaches,” Morrigan said quietly, crouching down to his level. “Well done, Amell. You can rest now. The defenders, to a man, are still alive. The knights on the hill sent a runner – they too are all alive. A resounding success, I should say.”

His eyes widened only very slightly, as he raised his icy blue eyes to her form, too exhausted to do anything more. _She had actually congratulated him, offered a compliment, maybe things were turning around_. “Good,” Adrian said, leaning back against the palisade. “Because I haven’t a scrap of magic left in me, and I have a feeling I'm gonna to be pissin’ blue for a while.” He finished gruffly, chuckling really only to himself.

It was not long before Gerard came over, having finished nearly licking Jade to death, and nosed his hand, getting a tired scratch behind the ears. “Hey… What’s the matter, pup?” The dog snuffled, and Adrian checked his teeth, his hands moving slower than a turtle in a desert, working a spiky chunk of bone out of the dog's gums. The dog barked happily and licked Adrian’s face before trotting off to rally the other defenders. As Adrian slipped out of consciousness once again.

_Good bloody work, Adrian. Good bloody work…_


End file.
